



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


















t 




REUNITED 










WAR 


REUNITED. 

A STORY OF THE CIVIL 


BY 

A Popular Southern Author. 

WITH ILL US TEA TIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 





NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

PUBLISHERS. 


THE CHOICE SERIES : ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWELVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NO. 80, 
FEBRUARY 1, 1891. ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., P08T OFFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTER. 




Copyright, 1890 and 1891, 
BY ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 

( All rights reserved.) 




PRESS OF 

THE NEW YORK LEDGER, 
NEW YORK. 



REUNITED. 


CHAPTER I. 

TWO BROTHERS. 

ENTUCKY is the garden State 
of the Union ; the Blue-Grass 
region is the garden spot of 
Kentucky, and any man who 
has ever seen ‘the Widow Ros- 
ser’s place,’ over in Jessamine 
County, will own up at once 
that that’s the garden spot of 
‘the Blue-Grass country.’” 

This was the eulogy of an enthusiast, but it had 
a basis, in fact, that is often wanting in eulogies. 



8 


Two Brothers. 


It certainly could be said, without danger of suc- 
cessful contradiction, that in all that land, famous 
for its beautiful homes, there was not a happier 
one than Mrs. Rosser’s, up to the autumn of 
1861. 

But there were no happy homes in the border 
States at that time — indeed, happiness seemed to 
have fled all the land, as it ever must, where war’s 
red torches are being kindled. 

“ The Rosser Place,” as it was called, was on 
the north bank of the beautiful Kentucky River, 
a short ride from the point where the ferry makes 
a watery hiatus in the Lexington and Danville 
Pike. 

Mrs. Rosser had two sons, Paul and Harry, the 
former twenty-four years of age at this date, and 
the latter two years younger. 

They were handsome, manly fellows, beloved 
by all who knew them, and so devoted to each 
other, that their neighbors spoke of them as 
models of brotherly affection. 

He would have been voted insane, who, in 
those happy days, dared even to hint that the 
brothers should yet stand armed under rival 
banners, and either speak of the other as “ a foe.” 


Two Brothers. 


9 


It was a beautiful evening in early September, 
and the brothers, both superbly mounted, were 
riding home from a great barbecue that had been 
held in Lexington that day. 

As they wheeled from the highway into the 
shaded, winding road that led down to their 
home, a mile or more away, Paul brought his 
horse down to a walk, and, after looking for some 
seconds at his brother’s down-cast face, he said : 

“It is better, Harry, that we should drop this 
subject, at least till the excitement has passed 
away.” 

“Wait till the excitement has passed away !” 
exclaimed Harry Rosser, and he sat straighter, 
and gathered up the reins with an impatient ges- 
ture. “ Why, Paul, you speak as if you thought 
the war which is now upon us might suddenly 
still itself, like a summer storm, and leave all as 
calm as before. But let me tell you that neither 
to me, nor to my friends, will the excitement 
have passed away, till the South, the land of our 
father and of his fathers for nearly two hundred 
years, has her rights acknowledged by not only 
the puritanical North, but by all the nations of 
the whole broad earth !” 


IO 


Two Brothers. 


“ You are in no condition to reason, brother 
Harry, therefore I shall refuse to take you seri- 
ously,” said Paul Rosser, stroking his brown 
mustache to hide his nervousness. 

“ Not in a condition to reason !” repeated the 
younger and more impetuous Harry. “ Surely, 
you do not think I have been drinking ?” 

“ I do not. But there is an intoxication that 
does not come from liquor ; it is the wild, unrea- 
soning enthusiasm that sweeps over a people like 
the plague. It was such an epidemic that led hun- 
dreds of thousands of men, women and children 
to follow the mad priest, Peter the Hermit, in 
his wild crusade for the redemption of the Holy 
Sepulcher from the hands of the profane infidel. 
We know the end. The deluded swarms went 
down to unknown graves, and — the Sepulcher 
still remained in the hands of the Saracen. But 
I shall refuse to talk. We differ radically on this 
question. I have failed to convince you of what 
I believe to be your error ; you can hardly hope 
to prove to me that I am not right.” 

As Paul Rosser ceased speaking, he gathered 
up the reins hanging loosely on his horse’s neck, 
and slightly raising his bridle-arm, the spirited 


Two B r others. 


1 1 

creature caught the signal, and broke into a 
smart canter. 

Kentucky might try to be neutral in the strug- 
gle, but it was evident that such a course must 
be against the wishes of the Widow Rosser’s 
sons. 

Much as all desired peace, these brothers, in 
their opposing views, typified the State. 

But in the mountains, where the people were 
too poor to own slaves, or, it may be, too liberty- 
loving to desire them, the hearts of the tall hill- 
men throbbed like war-drums to the music of the 
Union. 

Down in the land of higher mental culture, 
where the roads were fine and the plantations 
fat, a great majority of the people were either 
openly or secretly in revolt against the Repub- 
lic. 

The father of Paul and Harry Rosser died 
when they were children, leaving them a large 
estate, which, under Mrs. Rosser’s judicious 
management, had doubled since the day of the 
trust. 

Mrs. Rosser was a Philadelphian of Quaker 
ancestry. She belonged to a good family, and in 


12 


Two Brothers. 


her youth was famed for a grace of person and a 
charm of intellect still evident despite her six- 
and-forty years. 

Mrs. Rosser had never taken kindly to slavery, 
though the servants under her were practically 
free, and certainly better cared for and happier 
than they were when the storm that swept away 
their shackles had passed over a prostrate peo- 
ple and a reunited land. 

With a shrewd insight into the revolution, 
that had been denied to many in the South — and 
in the North, for the matter of that — Mrs. Rosser 
was impressed with the necessity of keeping her 
sons away from the mad whirl of excitement 
which now showed itself at high pressure on 
every hand. 

Personally, she was intensely loyal to the 
Union, but as soon as she discovered that her 
sons were divided, and that there was danger 
that they might not only be torn from her by the 
red hand of war, but might stand opposed to 
each other under the old flag and the new, mater- 
nal love made her conservative, and forced her 
high sense of patriotism into abeyance. 

With Mrs. Rosser lived her ward, Clara Leroy, 


Two Brothers. 


13 

an orphan and a distant relative of her dead hus- 
band. Clara, having been in the family since her 
infancy, was looked upon as a daughter. 

In that land, famed for its beautiful women, 
Clara Leroy was an acknowledged belle. She 
was at this time about nineteen years of age ; a 
pronounced brunette, with dark eyes and car- 
mine lips, and the lithe, exquisite form that might 
stand for a model of eternal youth. 

“ The Rosser boys look on Clara just as if she 
was a sister,” the neighbors would say, when 
discussing the beautiful girl’s prospects ; and 
some would add : “ But, then, all know she 

ain’t a sister, and they’re not such fools as to let 
her leave the family. Which will it be — Paul or 
Harry T 

Mrs. Rosser and Clara Leroy were sitting 
on the wide piazza, which commanded a view of 
the cliffs of the Kentucky River on the southern 
side, while to the west and north a winding car- 
riage road went down the park-like grounds in 
the direction of Nicholasville and the Lexington 
pike. 

It was a charming abode, with a little village 
of white cottages for the servants a hundred 


14 


Two Brothers . 


yards to the east of the house, and beyond that 
the outbuildings, orchards and undulating fields, 
where sleek herds grazed the luxuriant blue 
grass that has given its name to that favored- 
region. 

The sunset glow falling on Mrs. Rosser’s face 
only seemed to intensify the expression of pro- 
found anxiety with which she watched the road 
up which her sons must come from the great 
barbecue at Lexington. 

“ I do not think we need look for the boys till 
after dark,” said Clara, adding, as she saw the 
shadow of trouble deepening on Mrs. Rosser’s 
fine, patient face: “ There is so much abroad to 
interest men now, that, when they go out, there 
is no knowing when they will return. Never 
before have I wished that I was a man.” 

“And why should you wish it now, my child ?” 
asked Mrs. Rosser, gently laying her hand on 
the shapely head and turning it till the dark, 
expressive eyes met hers. 

Clara, evidently startled by her own words, 
blushed, and half stammered : 

“ Because — because, if I were a man, I think I 
should fight on the side of the South.” 


Two Brothers. 


15 


“ Then,” said Mrs. Rosser, quietly, “ you think 
the men who stand by the Union are wrong?” 

“No, dear mother; I will not say that. 
Indeed, I must confess that I do not know much 
about the rights or wrongs involved. I speak, 
like a woman, from my feelings ; and we are 
told that it is feeling rather than reason that 
rules a woman’s world.” 

“ And I am sorry it is so, Clara. But here 
come the boys.” And Mrs. Rosser took Clara’s 
hand and rose to her feet, while the two young 
horsemen came galloping under the giant locusts 
that bordered the winding road. 

As the brothers dismounted before the door, 
two stout black boys, named by their masters 
“ Virgil ” and “ Ovid,” appeared, as if by magic, 
and led the horses away. 

The young men kissed their mother and their 
adopted sister ; but, had a stranger been pres- 
ent, he must have noticed that when Paul stooped 
to salute the fair girl, his face became flushed 
and his manner nervous, while his more impul- 
sive brother went through with the greeting 
without any unusual show of feeling. 

Neither Mrs. Rosser nor Clara asked the young 


i6 


Two B r others. 


men about the barbecue. By a tacit but well- 
understood agreement, all unpleasant subjects 
had hitherto been tabooed in that house. 

Paul and Harry went to their rooms and pre- 
pared for supper, and when they appeared in the 
big dining-hall, the anger, with the dust, had gone 
from their handsome faces ; and as the fond 
mother looked from one to the other, the doubts 
left her heart for the time, and she felt that no 
differences could separate these two, who were 
so much to each other, and all the world to her. 

After supper, George Netly, the son of a neigh- 
bor, and a strong sympathizer with the South, 
dropped in. 

Young Netly came to learn about the barbe- 
cue, which he had not attended ; but as his visits 
had been very frequent since Clara’s return from 
school the previous June, Mrs. Rosser was not 
decided as to his object ; and as she did not like 
the man — she could not have liked him even if 
she had not seen through Paul’s secret — he was 
not made welcome in one heart in that family. 

Sturdy, coarse and loud-voiced, George Netly 
poured out a torrent of indignation against Union 


“My Old Kentucky Home. 


17 


men, and he would have kept it up had not Harry 
whispered to him : 

“ You cannot talk so in my presence, for my 
brother is a gentleman and a Union man !” 


CHAPTER II. 

“MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME — GOOD-NIGHT V* 

The autumn was over, and the crimson torches' 
of the maples flared along the hills of Central 
Kentucky. Meanwhile, up from the South and 
down from the North came the din of warlike 
preparations. 

Neighbors, who had ever been dear friends, 
became estranged. Congregations were divided 
or broken up. But, sadder than all, in that bor- 
der land, the effort to disrupt the Republic, in 
time, was successful in breaking up families from 
the start. 

Fathers were found to differ from their sons, 
and brothers who had been rocked in the same 
cradle and nourished at the same breast parted, 


1 8 “My Old Kentucky Homey 

to enlist under opposing banners, and to stand 
as foemen in the red ranks of war. 

One night — it was mid-October, and the full 
moon, not yet an hour high, looked over the 
flashing streams and undulating hills of Central 
Kentucky — Harry Rosser was pacing the piazza 
and tugging at his brown mustache like a man 
much perplexed, when Dora Burns, the daughter 
of a neighbor, appeared from the parlor with 
Clara Leroy. 

“ Are you settling the fate of this distracted 
nation, Harry ?” asked Dora Burns, with a little 
laugh, that must have been forced, for the moon- 
light showed that her sweet face was serious, if 
not actually sad. 

“ No/’ replied Harry. “ I was thinking about 
you, and congratulating myself on the honor — 
the pleasure of seeing you home by moonlight.” 

“ Wouldn’t the honor — the pleasure be just as 
great if there were no moon, or if the sun were 
shining at high noon?” asked Clara, as she kissed 
her friend and adjusted the white zephyr wrap 
about her exquisite head. 

“ 1 suppose so,” said Harry, with a sigh ; “ but 
I had in mind the many rambles we have had 


“My Old Kejitucky Home . 


l 9 


over the same road, and I was asking myself, 
when, after to-night, can I be her escort again ?” 

Clara did not ask for an explanation, but kissed 
Dora, and stood watching her and Harry till 
they disappeared down the road, now shimmer- 
ing with shadow and moon-light. 

“ And so,” said Dora Burns, as she went on by 
Harry’s side, “ you were thinking about me. 
How did I come to have a place in thoughts 
now given to weightier things?” 

She tossed back the ends of her nubia, and 
walked on with her anxious eyes raised to his 
troubled face. 

“ I will tell you !” he said, and he pressed her 
arm more closely. “ The winter is coming, and 
it may be long before I can walk with you again. 
I can never hope to see a more peaceful or more 
beautiful night.” 

He could feel a tremor of the little hand cling- 
ing to his arm, but she made no response. 

They walked on till they reached a point where 
the path ran along the cliffs, below which the 
river lay in shadow. Here they sat down on a 
rock, known locally, like many other high rocks 
the world over, as “ The LoverVDeap.” 


20 “My Old Kentucky Home 

After the silence was becoming painful, Harry 
said, with the manner of a man speaking by a 
strong effort of will : 

“ Dora, I am going away to-night.” 

“ Going away to-night !” she repeated, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Yes ; and the thought unmans me.” *~ 

“ But where are you going ?” she asked, at the 
same time pushing her nubia from her head and 
laying her hand on his arm. 

“ Dora,” he continued, in a tremulous voice, “ I 
have not said anything to mother or Paul about 
it, for I know how they feel, and God knows 
how; I love them. But of late I have been away 
a great deal.” 

“ I know all about that, Harry,” she said, “and 
the knowledge has pained me more than I can 
tell you. What have you been doing ?” 

“ Drilling,” he replied. 

“ Drilling !” she repeated. 

“Yes. I have been elected captain of a com- 
pany of cavalry, all friends of mine, and all 
pledged to give their lives to the cause of the 
South. We leave to-night, for the time has 
come when earnest men must do more than 


“My Old Kentucky Home .’ 


21 


talk.” He waited, and seeing she made no com- 
ment, he took her hand and added : “ Dora, I 

know your heart is not with the cause I have 
espoused.” 

She did not answer at once, but he could see 
that her lips became set, and an expression like 
ypars of sudden age came over her face. At 
length she said, and the suppressed emotion in 
her tones thrilled him : 

“ I do not blame you for feeling as you do, 
though neither I nor mine have any sympathy 
with the course you have espoused. I was in 
hopes you would take time to think before you 
acted — ” 

“Did your father take time to think?” he 
interrupted. 

“ My father,” she said, and there was a light in 
her eyes such as he had never seen there before, 
“ was educated for a soldier at West Point. He 
served his country with honor in Mexico, and 
now he feels it to be his duty to serve her at 
home. Do not speak about him, for duty, not 
impulse, is his guide.” 

As Dora Burns spoke she pulled the nubia 
over her head with an impatient gesture, and 


22 “My Old Kentucky Homer 

rose to her feet, and, at that instant, the moon 
was hidden behind a cloud. 

“ I did not mean to speak of war to-night,” 
he said, again offering her his arm, which she 
took after some hesitation. 

“ Of what, then ?” she asked. 

“ Of love,” he answered. 

He felt as if she were about to withdraw her 
hand from his arm, but he held it in place and 
added hurriedly, as if determined to say what 
was on his mind before she could check him : 

“We may never meet again, Dora, and I felt 
that 1 could not leave you without asking if the 
course I am about to take will influence your 
heart against me — without knowing if you desire 
our engagement to stand.” 

Dora firmly but gently said: 

“ Hitherto my father has been your friend ; 
through all my life his will has been my law, and 
it has been a law of love. He has gone north of 
the Ohio, and is now in the army. You are 
to-night going to the South to fight against him, 
and yet you ask me to love you and to keep our 
troth. Why, Harry Rosser, do you not know 
that the woman who is not a true daughter could 


“My Old Kentucky Home. 


2 3 


never make a loving wife ? No, no ; the man to 
whom I give my love must be one on whose 
every act I can hourly invoke Heaven’s bless- 
ings. If you are right, then my father is wrong ; 
but I will die believing that he is incapable of 
wrong.” 

Now she did release her hand from his arm, 
and walked on with a quicker pace, as if eager 
for their journey to end. 

“ Then I am to understand,” he said, hoarsely, 
“ that our engagement is at an end ?” 

“ It is.” 

“ And forever ?” 

“ Yes, if forever you are bent on this course,” 
she said. 

By this time they had reached a bend in the 
road, and out of the bushes that fringed it to the 
south there suddenly appeared the tall, dark 
figure of a young man. 

Halting directly in front of the estranged 
lovers, the man said, in a hoarse, discordant 
voice : 

“ Pardon me, I did not expect to see you here, 
Harry Rosser ; nor you, Miss Burns.” 

“ Howard Raymond,” said Harry, as he gave 


24 


“My Old Kentucky Homed 


Dora his arm, “ it has not been my custom to 
arrange my movements according toyourexpec- 
tations.” 

“ Certainly not ; but I heard you had gone 
south. There is where every man who thinks 
himself brave and holds such views should be, 
instead of — ” 

“ See here, Raymond ! Step aside and let us 
pass. You are an excellent stump speaker, but 
neither Miss Burns nor myself is in any mood to 
play audience for you to-night.” 

If Howard Raymond could by any possibility 
have mistaken the ring of resolution in Harry 
Rosser’s voice, he could not have fallen into a 
like error as to his movements. Keeping Dora 
close to his side — he could feel that now she 
clung to his arm — he strode on, forcing the tall, 
dark figure to step from the middle of the road. 

Nothing more was said by either Harry or 
Dora till they stood at her door, which a servant 
had opened and then withdrew. 

“You will at least give me your hand, Dora, 
and when I am gone you will think of me, if at 
all, as one who is moved by a sense of duty, be 
that sense right or wrong.” 


“My Old Kentucky Home. 


^5 


She let her hand rest in his, as she made 
answer : 

“ Yes, Harry, all that — all that, and more, too. 
We think you in error ; but those who know you 
and — and have loved you, are sure that you 
believe you are in the right.” 

She made as if to enter the house, but before 
she could do so, he stooped, pressed his lips to 
her forehead, and then dashed down the steps, 
and hurried away. 

When he came back to the bend in the road 
where he had encountered Howard Raymond, 
he saw the tall, dark figure still standing in the 
same position and looking directly toward him. 

Harry Rosser, without a pause, walked 
directly on till he came face to face with the 
man, who was evidently waiting for him. 

Coming to a halt, Harry exclaimed: “Well!” 
and the other repeated the same word. 

These young men were nearly of an age. 
They had known each other from childhood, and 
had been schoolmates, but never companions. 
Their natures were so entirely different that they 
might be said to be born antagonistic. 

This antagonism increased into hate on the 


26 


“My Old Kentucky Horned 


part of Raymond and of contempt on the part of 
Harry Rosser, when they became rivals for the 
hand of the same fair girl. 

Still further to confirm their antagonism, 
Howard Raymond was from the first outspoken 
in favor of the Union, but even among Union 
men his expressions were not looked upon as the 
result of patriotism, for he had already estab- 
lished for himself a character for insincerity. 

That he was not wanting in physical courage 
was evident from his bearing on this occasion ; 
his clenched hands, compressed lips and flashing 
eyes showed that he was not only ready, but 
courted an encounter with the young man con- 
fronting him. 

After the exclamation, “ Well!” Harry Rosser 
said : 

“ Step from the middle of the road, sir, and let 
me pass !” 

The command was so sudden that Raymond 
obeyed, and Harry Rosser passed on ; but he had 
only taken a few steps when he was halted by 
the demand : 

“ Do you ride south to-night, Captain Ros- 
ser?” 


27 


. ■' ■ - - 

“My Old Kentucky Home!' 

u Is that any of your business ?” was the 
response. 

“ I choose to make it my business,” sneered 
Raymond. 

“ Then, let me say, I do ride south to-night. I 
take a direction that you will never dare to fol- 
low.” 

“ Do not delude yourself with that belief,” said 
Raymond, his white teeth flashing through his 
black beard. “ You and I shall meet again, 
when the constraints of society and considera- 
tion for your friends will not restrain me.” 

“ Let the meeting be now, if you desire,” said 
Harry, taking a backward step ; “ but if you choose 
to defer it till we meet on the battle-field, where 
your friends do not think you will ever be seen, 
why, so be it. One thing you may rest assured 
of — 1 shall make no effort to avoid you.” 

With the last word Harry Rosser wheeled, his 
heel crunching the gravel as if the head of his foe 
were beneath it, and then with long strides he 
went down the moonlit road in the direction of 
the lights gleaming in the old mansion above the 
river. 

He was about to enter the house, when he 


28 


“My Old Kentucky Home . 


heard his name called, and, turning, he saw his 
brother coming from the direction of the ser- 
vants’ quarters. 

Leading Paul back till they came to an eleva- 
tion that commanded a view of the beautiful 
country for many miles around, Harry said : 

“ Old fellow, you must have known all about 
it, but till the hour had come I could not bring 
myself to tell you.” 

“ I saw your horse down by the gate, with a 
rifle strapped to the saddle,” said Paul. 

“ Then you know where I am going?” 

“ I can guess all that. But let us sit down and 
talk this matter over,” said Paul, pointing to the 
trunk of a fallen tree. 

“ The time for talk has passed, and the time for 
action has come,” said Harry, as he took a seat 
beside his brother. 

“ And you believe it is your duty to go, 
Harry ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ But have you forgotten the duty you owe to 
our mother ? Is it right, Harry, that to carry 
out this quixotic idea of duty, you should break 
her heart ? Hear me out ; I shall speak of our 


“My Old Kentucky Home'. 


2 9 


mother, not of myself. You should know how 
I love you. You should know that if you part 
from us now, a cloud will fall upon our home 
and our hearts, and something tells me that, 
once that cloud has come, it will never again be 
lifted.” 

As Paul spoke, he pointed to the opposite 
hillside, where cold and white there gleamed in 
the moonlight the marble shaft that marked the 
resting-place of their father. This shaft met 
Harry’s swimming gaze, and he said, in a husky 
voice : 

“ There, Paul, there our father sleeps. He was 
born away to the South, and it is said that I most 
resemble him, as you do our mother ; if he were 
living now, his heart would be like mine, and it is 
not in our blood to sit passive where our sympa- 
thies are enlisted.” 

“ True, Harry, but it is in our blood to rea- 
son — 

“ It is too late to debate, Paul. I know you 
better than you know yourself. The war tide 
now pouring through the South will soon beat 
against the mountains and sweep over the valleys 
of Kentucky. When that time comes, as come it 


30 “My Old Kentucky Home 

surely must, you will not sit passive ; God grant 
our fields of effort may lie far apart/’ and with 
a sob that came from the depths of his generous 
heart, Harry threw his arms about his brother’s 
neck and kissed him. 

“ Have you told her — told mother ?” asked 
Paul, rising and looking back at the house. 

“ No ; I wanted to leave that till the last. I 
tried it a dozen times, but lost heart. In one 
hour I shall be away. When I am gone, Paul, 
look in my writing-case and you will find an 
envelope addressed to you ; it contains my will. 
It is in good shape and properly witnessed. I — 
I believe, old fellow, that is all,” said Harry. 

They turned back to the house, and on the 
way Paul asked : 

“ Did you tell Dora?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And how did she take it ?” 

“As I feared. Our engagement is broken. 
Let us get back, for I feel as if I should break 
down if we talked much longer.” 

As they neared the house, Ovid, Harry’s ser- 
vant, appeared dressed in his holiday clothes, 


“My Old Kentucky Home. 


3i 


and touching his hat, he said, in a voice indicat- 
ing anything but joy : 

“ Mauss Harry, bofe hosses is ready, sah ! 
An’ Pze done said good-bye to de ole folks in de 
cabin.” 

“ All right, Ovy, I shall be out in a few min- 
utes,” replied Harry. Then, as the black boy 
disappeared, he continued: “ I’ve made up my 
mind to take Ovy with me, not because I shall 
need a servant, but it will seem more like home 
to have some one from the old place about me.” 

To this Paul made no reply. His feelings 
were so over-wrought that he dare not trust him- 
self to speak, so he turned his face away while 
his brother entered the house. 

After some minutes — minutes so full of mental 
torture that they seemed like hours — Paul heard 
a low cry coming from the direction of the sit- 
ting-room. 

It was the first? sound of agony he had heard 
from his mother’s lips since that day in the long 
ago when the coffin of his father was lowered 
into the grave over on yonder hill-side. 

The next instant, Harry was hurrying out, 


32 “My Old Kentucky Home l 1 

tears coursing down his ashy face, and his step 
as unsteady as if he had been drinking. 

“ God bless you, my brother! God bless you 
and them !” gasped Harry, and he caught Paul 
to his heart, kissed him, and was gone. 

Stunned, and like a man walking in a dream, 
Paul Rosser turned and followed in the direction 
Harry had taken. 

He came down to the gate where the horse 
had been tied, but the animal was gone. 

He looked down the road on which the moon- 
light sifted through the swaying branches, and 
he caught the pale flash on a polished rifle-barrel 
and he heard the ring of iron hoofs dying away 
in the direction of the south. 


MY NAME ’S SAM MARTIN,” SAIDfTHE/ PRISONER.— See Page 48. 

































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' 

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“My Boys are Gone!' 


33 


CHAPTER III. 

“ GOD PITY ME ! MY BOYS, MY BOYS ARE 
GONE !” 

Paul Rosser spoke truly. With the departure 
of Harry a cloud fell on the old home, and the 
cheery songs of the servants were heard no 
longer in the cabins. 

Just before Christmas, a letter was received 
from Harry, who was then coming North 
through Kentucky with Zollicoffer’s army. He 
wrote with the love of a fond son and brother, 
but he made no reference to the cause to which 
he had pledged his gallant young life. 

Meanwhile, Dora Burns was a frequent visitor 
at Mrs. Rosser’s, she and Clara agreeing to for- 
get their differences in view of the many beliefs 
they had in common. 

Ever since Harry’s departure, Howard Ray- 
mond had been like Dora’s shadow ; and it was 
rumored that Mrs. Burns, if not her daughter, 


34 “My Boys are Gone T 

looked with approval on the young man’s atten- 
tions. 

It was certainly taken for granted by all who 
knew them that Dora’s rejection of Harry Ros- 
ser was irrevocable, and the Union people 
applauded her decision, while those of Harry’s 
way of thinking were confident that the war 
saved him from a marriage that must have been 
worse than a daily battle-field. 

In the meantime, Kentucky’s neutrality was 
treated with contempt by both sides. 

Gray troopers swarmed up from the South, 
and from the North the blue-clad legions poured 
over the Ohio, till at length the dullest saw that 
the State was to have a stronger claim to the 
name of “ The dark and bloody ground.” 

Paul Rosser’s course brought on him the con- 
tempt, if not the hatred, of nearly all his old 
friends ; and knowing this, he staid much at 
home, taking care of the place and devoting his 
time to feeding and clothing the swarms of 
Union refugees who, during that winter, fled 
into Kentucky from the mountains of East 
Tennessee. 

This life told upon Paul. He became pale 


“My Boys ai'e Gone!" 


35 


and taciturn ; and, conscious of the change in 
himself, he tried to hide it from his mother and 
Clara. 

One night, while Paul and his mother sat 
before a glowing wood-fire, in whose blaze and 
crumbling coals they saw men going down to 
death on smoking battle-fields, he took her hand 
and said, without withdrawing his eyes from the 
fire : 

“ Mother, I cannot stand this much longer and 
retain my manhood. God knows how I love 
you, but my place is not here. It will kill me if 
I stay and suffer. What worse can befall me if 
I give my arm to the cause that is so dear to my 
heart ?” 

Mrs. Rosser did not answer for some minutes ; 
at length she took his right hand between her 
own palms, and said, in tones of forced calm- 
ness : 

“ Paul, it would be folly for me to say, at this 
time, how much I love you and him. For long 
years I lived only for my boys, and as you grew 
to manhood, with your characters all I could 
desire, 1 have felt that Heaven had blessed me 
beyond my deserts. Since he left, my heart has 


36 


“My Boys are Gone!' 


found some comfort in the hope that you might 
remain, for more and more I lean upon you, and 
1 feel older and weaker since the trouble came.” 

“ I have thought of all that, dear mother,” said 
Paul, drawing her hands to his lips and kissing 
them. “ For long months my soul has been in 
agony, and I have hourly prayed that I might 
not act from any impulse which I might regret.” 

“ You have ever been patient and strong, my 
son,” she said, her brave white face now turned 
to his. 

“ But,” he continued, “ so long as 1 felt I could 
protect you and Clara, I have reasoned that my 
place was here in the old home.” 

“ And you have protected us,” she said. 

“ The man who cannot protect himself is in no 
condition to protect others.” 

“ I do not understand you, Paul,” she said. 
“ Is there a new danger you have kept from 
me?” 

“You know,” he said, “that the country here- 
about is filled with Confederate recruiting 
agents, our old friend, George Netly, at their 
head.” 

“Yes, I know that; but since Clara declined 


My Boys are Gone ! 


37 


to receive any further attentions from George 
Netly, he has not bothered us.” 

“True; but, if I know the man, that is one 
reason why he will make it his business to bother 
us. But that apart. You know that Zollicoffer’s 
army is advancing this way — ” 

“ And Harry is with them. He will see that 
no harm befalls you,” she said, confidently. 

“ If all felt as Harry does I should have noth- 
ing to fear ; but, as it is, there are only two 
courses open to me : One is to fly like a craven 
to the north of the Ohio; the other is — ” 

Seeing him hesitate, his mother added : 

“ And the other course is to join the Union 
Army ?” 

“ That is it, mother. And so, if I cannot remain 
and help you, let me go and help my country.” 

“ May Heaven guide you aright,” she said. 

She rose, and Paul rose with her. 

She threw her arms about his neck and laid 
her white face against his heart, and so they 
stood when Clara Leroy entered the room. 

“ Tell her all, as you have told me,” whispered 
Mrs. Rosser, and she turned and left the room. 

With the dazed manner of a somnambulist, 


38 


“My Boys are Gone! 


Clara approached Paul, and the aged expression 
that pain ever brings was on her beautiful face. 

She did not need to be told what had happened. 
True love has in its composition the element of 
prophecy, when the loved one is in danger. 

Reaching out her hands as if for support, Clara 
asked : 

“ Paul, what has happened ?” 

“ Nothing, Clara; let us sit down and talk.” 

Clara took the chair Mrs. Rosser had occupied, 
and turned to Paul with a pained, questioning 
expression. 

“ Clara,” Paul began, “ I have known since the 
beginning of the war that is now on us, that your 
sympathies are with the South, and hence I have 
refrained from speaking to you about it, though 
in this, as in all things, I have not concealed my 
feelings when I thought it was necessary to 
express them.” 

“ Oh, this war !” she cried, in agony. “ The 
bullets that slay men wing their flight from the 
battle-field, and never stop till they have lodged 
in a woman’s heart !” 

“ The war is on us, Clara, and we cannot stay 


“My Boys are Gone!' 


39 


it. But we can learn what is our duty, and do 
it.” 

Then he told her of his purpose to leave on the 
morrow and join the Union Army organizing at 
Camp Dick Robinson, a day’s ride to the south. 

“There will be less danger to you and mother 
when I am gone,” he exclaimed. “The chances 
are that the southern troops will soon be here, 
and no harm can come to you from men who are 
as chivalric as I think they are mistaken. And 
then, Clara, the servants are contented and faith- 
ful, and they will stick to the old place till I 
return.” 

“ And when will that be ?” she asked. 

“ I cannot tell ; but if I live I shall come back 
with peace.” « 

“ If you live !” she cried, and she seized his 
arm in both her hands, and looked up with an 
awful expression in her great, dark eyes. 

He could not trust himself to speak, but words 
were to her the only outlet for her tortured feel- 
ings. 

“ Oh, Paul !” she wailed, “ it will kill me if you 
go. Let us leave this place ; let us fly to the 


40 “My Boys are Gone!” 

north or to the south — anywhere to be out of the 
mad whirl of this war.” 

“ There is no spot in this broad land where an 
intelligent being dwells that is out of the mad 
whirl of this war,” he said. Then suddenly 
changing his manner and lowering his voice, 
Paul continued : “ It may be my last chance, 

Clara, and therefore I feel that I should tell you 
something that concerns yourself — that concerns 
me so deeply.” 

“Yes?” she said, questioningly ; but she 
avoided his gaze. 

“ Since I have become a man, Clara, and you 
have grown to womanhood, I have loved you, 
but not with the love that one gives a sister. 
Are you angry with me for this ?” He laid his 
hand on her head, and turned her face toward 
him. 

“ No,” she whispered. 

“ In my day-dreaming, Clara, I have imagined 
you my wife ; I tell you this now, not to exact a 
pledge, but that you may know, when I am gone 
how tenderly I have loved and shall love you.” 

“ When you are gone !” she repeated, and she 
rose and tottered as if staggering from a blow ; 


“My Boys are Gone!" 41 

and she would have fallen had he not caught her 
in his arms. 

It had been on his mind to tell her further of 
his love and to ask her if he could leave with 
the hope that she would be his when all the 
trouble was over, and peace reigned again in the 
valleys of Kentucky ; but the sentence he had so 
carefully framed fled from his memory, and he 
stood trembling and dumb, with his arms about 
her. 

He did not need to ask her if she returned his 
love ; in every fibre of his being he felt that she 
was his. 

He could not ask her to be his wife; for, 
before that event, peace must come. 

They sat down again, but neither spoke for 
many minutes. 

Each held the other’s righc hand and felt its 
throbbing. And as they looked into the fire, 
the glowing castles made by the coals became 
shrouded with white ashes, then crumbled and 
fell into ruins. 

The next morning Paul Rosser told the ser- 
vants of his purpose, and gloom and consterna- 
tion fell upon the faithful people whose lives had 


42 


“My Boys are Gone/' 


hitherto been cast in such pleasant places, that 
they never even thought of their being slaves. 

The overseer of the place was a stalwart old 
man, known far and near as “ Uncle Eph.” His 
wife answered to the name of “Aunt Marfa,” 
and her skill as a cook was as famous as the hos- 
pitality of her mistress. 

Uncle Eph and Aunt Marfa were the most 
trusted servants on the plantation, and it can be 
-truthfully said that had they been free and 
its owners, their interest would not have been 
greater, nor their industry and care more con- 
spicuous. ‘ 

This humble but pious and praiseworthy 
couple were the parents of the two boys, Virgil 
and Ovid, before referred to. 

They had just finished breakfast in their cabin, 
and were wondering, in low, sad tones, “ whar 
Ovy and Mauss Harry was ’bout dat time,” when 
their oldest son, Virgil, or “ Virgy,” as he was 
called, ran in with a great deal of white visible 
in his eyes and in his mouth, and shouted out: 

“ Ho, mammy ! Does yeh know w’at’s up?” 

“ G’long, chile,” said the startled Marfa, as she 
adjusted the red turban that had half leaped 


“My Boys are Gone P 


43 


from her head. “ I ain’t got no time to guess 
riddles.” 

“ ’T — tain’t a riddle,” stammered Virgil. 

“ W’at is it, den ?” 

“ Mauss Paul, he’s a-gwine to le’be, an’ Ize 
a-gwine to go long wid him,” said Virgil. 

Marfa repeated this information over word for 
word, as if she were preparing to deny it when 
she got through ; but her husband hastened to 
confirm what Virgil had said, by saying : 

“ Virgy am right dis time, fo’ shuah ; but de 
Lor’ gibs an’ de Lor’ He takes away, so bless us 
all, an’ amin !” 

Uncle Eph pronounced the last word with 
great emphasis, and then looked up, with an 
expression of perfect resignation, at the strings 
of red onions hanging to the rafter. 

Marfa waited to hear no more, but with her 
hands pressed to her head, to hold down the red 
bandanna, she ran to the house to have the 
awful news confirmed by her mistress. 

On the way, she passed a number of tall men 
armed with big rifles, and dressed in ragged 
butternut suits, refugees from East Tennessee, 
who had arrived the night before, and who now 


44 


“My Boys are Gone!' 


looked as if they were only waiting for some one 
to renew the march. 

During this ordeal, Mrs. Rosser was perfectly 
calm ; a stranger might have thought her indif- 
ferent ; but a woman only controls her emotions 
by intensifying her sufferings. 

Clara could not conceal her feelings, for 
though she made no outcry when the time for 
parting came, the look of agony in her eyes and 
the pallor of her face told the torture she was 
suffering. 

It all seemed so much like a dream that after 
he had kissed her, and she saw him riding off at 
the head of the refugees, she felt that she must 
wake up to hear his cheery voice on the lawn. 

But when she did recover, Mrs. Rosser’s arms 
were about her, and she heard the words: 

“ God help me, Clara ! God pity us both ! 
My boys, my boys are gone, and we are alone !” 


Face to Face. 


45 


CHAPTER IV. 

FACE TO FACE. 

“ Hurrah ! Zollicoffer’s army is over the Cum- 
berland r 

The cry rang through Kentucky, bringing 
despair to some, carrying joy and exultation to 
many. 

And what an army that was ! It was composed 
of young men ; the flower of Kentucky, Missis- 
sippi and Tennessee ; all full of courage and high 
hopes ; all ready to make any sacrifice for a 
cause, of the ultimate success of which they had 
no doubt. 

Better horsemen the sun never shone on, and 
men more familiar with the rifle could not be 
found ; but they had yet to learn that it takes 
more than horsemanship, more than skill with the 
rifle, and more than high courage to make a 
soldier. 

Discipline was only a form in Zollicoffers 
army. But had he been a trained soldier instead 


46 


Face to Face. 


of a cultured lawyer, it is doubtful if, in a few 
months, he could have reduced to soldierly obedi- 
ence the daring young spirits with which he found 
himself surrounded. 

There were hundreds of private soldiers in that 
army who not only provided their own horses 
and arms, and their own uniforms — such as they 
were — but who actually came provided with 
their own body servants and wagons to carry 
their own supplies ; as if they thought war a 
picnic, and the battle-field a one-sided hunt. 

As a captain of cavalry, Harry Rosser felt jus- 
tified in keeping his servant, Ovy, with him ; but, 
unlike a majority of his comrades, he did not 
affect to treat with contempt the valor of the 
army General Thomas was then heading south to 
oppose the Confederates. 

Harry Rosser had the born instincts of a sol- 
dier, and though he had not the authority to 
enforce discipline outside his own command, he 
set an example he would have the others follow, 
by constant drill when in camp, and that atten- 
tion to military detail on the march, with which 
inferior men can be made into good soldiers, 


Face to Face . 


47 


and without which the bravest men are unfitted 
for regular warfare. 

General Zollicoffer was a man in the prime 
of life, with a strikingly handsome person and the 
soul of a poet. From the very first he became 
attached to Harry Rosser, and to him and his 
company he intrusted the dangerous but essen- 
tial duty of scouting in the advance of the Union- 
ists, who were hourly coming nearer from their 
rendezvous at Camp Dick Robinson. 

The night of the 17th of January, 1862, was 
dark, and the drizzling rain, that had softened 
the mountain roads into a marsh, froze on the 
horses and equipments of the cavalry in the Union 
advance, and chilled to the bone the vigilant 
scouts under Captain Harry Rosser, who knew 
himself to be in the same woods with his foemen. 

Ovy, who had no love for war but much love 
for his young master, remained with the com- 
pany, and he had built a fire in the shelter of 
a little hill, and was making some coffee, when, 
about midnight, two men came in, bringing with 
them a prisoner. 

The blue tunic, with its yellow trimmings, 


48 


Face to Face . 


and the long boots and belted sabre told that 
the young man belonged to the Union cavalry. 

Seeing that the prisoner looked cold and 
hungry, Harry shared with him the coffee, corn 
bread and bacon Ovy had prepared, and then 
asked : 

“ What is your name ?” 

“ My name’s Sam Martin,” said the prisoner, 
with the unmistakable accent of an East Tennes- 
seean. 

“ What is your regiment ?” 

“ Ain’t j’ined to no reegment yet,” was the 
reply. 

“You belong to an independent company, 
then?” 

“ Go up head ; guessed it first time,” said the 
prisoner, as he drained the last drop of coffee 
from the tin cup. 

“ Who commands your company ?” 

“ Captain Rosser,” was the astounding reply, 

“ Captain Rosser !” exclaimed Harry. 

“Yes, sir — Captain Paul Rosser; an’ if you 
don’t light out right smart, afore daylight, he’ll 
warm you more’n if all the woods ’bout har was 
afire,” said the prisoner, as, in obedience to a 


Face to Face . 


49 


request from one of Harry’s men, he took off his 
sword and threw it, with his belt, on the ground. 

“ Ha ! has Mauss Paul got a boy wid him 
named 4 Virgy?’ Co z, if he has, dat’s my brud- 
der, and Ize bound to see him,” said Ovid ; and 
he looked as if ready to start off the instant he 
received an answer in the affirmative. 

Before the prisoner could reply to this, Harry 
ordered him to be taken to the rear, and then he 
wrote a note, and sent it to General Zollicoffer, 
saying that he did not feel well, and asking that 
another company be sent forward to take his 
place. 

He did not equivocate in saying he was ill. 
The news brought by the prisoner unnerved him 
for the time, and made him feel like a coward. 

The meeting he had dreaded, and which he 
tried to believe was impossible, had come about, 
and here, on the eve of his very first battle, he 
found himself face to face with the brother 
whom he loved even the more for the danger he 
was subjected to — the brother whom he would 
die, without question, to shield from harm. 

That night Captain Harry Rosser was relieved, 
and Captain Paul Rosser the next morning led 


50 


Face to Face. 


his men through the woods, near Somerset, 
which his brother had guarded a few hours 
before. 

From information received before leaving 
home, Paul believed that Harry was at that time 
with General Buckner at Fort Donelson. He 
was, therefore, not a little startled, on the after- 
noon of the 1 8th, to learn from a farmer, at 
whose house he stopped, that Captain Rosser, of 
the Confederate Army, had been there the day 
before. 

Paul was hoping that his informant might be 
mistaken, when Howard Raymond appeared on 
the scene, and said that he had seen a muster- 
roll of Zollicoffer’s army, and that Harry Rosser 
was that officer’s chief of scouts. 

Paul was not a little surprised to see Howard 
Raymond in the uniform of a Union staff 
officer. He had never liked the man, and the 
fact that they were now fighting under the same 
flag gave him no reason to change his feelings. 

He knew only too well of his brother’s love 
for Dora Burns, and of Raymond’s rivalry ; but 
this apart, he disliked the man because of his 
bitter and ignoble character. 


Face to Face. 


5 * 

“ Captain Rosser,” was Raymond’s salutation, 
“ you will have your mettle tried to-morrow.” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Paul. 

“ I mean that we shall be on the banks of the 
Cumberland, and the enemy are eager for our 
coming.” 

“ I do not know how it is with you, Raymond,” 
replied Paul, “ but, as for myself, I entered the 
army with the full expectation of meeting the 
enemy, and as to my mettle, I am not afraid to 
have it tested.” * 

“ Oh ! I did not mean to doubt your courage,” 
Raymond hastened to say. “I had only in mind 
the fact that you will be fighting face to face with 
your own brother. This may not affect you, for 
you are made of stern stuff, but I must confess 
the knowledge would weaken me, if I was so 
unfortunate as to be in the same position.” 

“ If Harry is in the army in our front, you will 
hardly care to find out for yourself the particular 
part of the field he is defending, unless it may be 
for the purpose of avoiding it,” said Paul, and he 
turned away to avoid giving vent to his indigna- 
tion. 

“You may change your mind about that,” 


52 


Face to Face. 


hissed Raymond, adding, when Paul had gone 
out of hearing: “ You ought to be on the same 
side as your brother ; our side wouldn’t lose much 
b}^ the change.” 

Through the night of the 1 8th, men from Ken- 
tucky, Tennessee, Indiana and Ohio pushed 
south through the woods and fields, for the artil- 
lery and wagon trains had cut up the roads till 
they were impassable for infantry. 

Before daylight, the little army under General 
Thomas came to a halt, and went into camp 
along Fishing Creek, near the village of Som- 
erset. 

A circle of fires to the south told that the point 
for which they had been straining through weary 
marches was reached, and that the light of another 
day would see the opening of the battle, and 
be the last day to many a stalwart man now on 
the picket-line, or standing in dripping great- 
coats about the camp-fires. 

There was no singing, no joking, no loud 
talking on either side ; for no matter how brave 
the man, he has doubts of his own courage on 
the eve of his first battle, and he cannot keep 


Face to Face . 


53 


from himself the question : “ How will it be with 
me on the morrow ?” 

Paul Rosser’s men had just fed their horses, 
and were eating an early breakfast in a clump 
of timber, about a mile from the opposing army, 
when an aid galloped out of the darkness, reined 
in before the fire, and after saluting, asked : 

“ Is this Captain Rosser ?” 

“ That is my name,” was the reply. 

“I bear you an order from General Thomas.” 

The aid took the order from his dispatch pouch, 
and Paul knelt before the fire and read : 

“ Captain Rosser will at once move his com- 
mand to the extreme right, where he will find a 
body of the enemy’s cavalry posted. Drive them 
back, and hold the ground till further orders.” 

“ All right,” said the captain. 

The aid took a receipt for the dispatch, 
wheeled his horse, and disappeared. 

Day was breaking when Paul gave the order 
to “ saddle up and mount.” 

Bugles were sounding and drums were rattl- 
ing in the camp to the south. A silence like 
death pervaded the camp to the north. 


54 


Face to Face. 


Every man in Paul’s command was a good 
rider, and knew well how to handle the carbine 
with which he had been provided, but the sabres, 
with which all were armed and with which none 
were familiar, were worse than useless — they 
were in the way. The men fastened chem to the 
pommels of their saddles, and only a sense of 
duty kept the green troopers from throwing 
them away 

Over a soggy cornfield they rode, and, just as 
they were about to gallop into the woods, they 
were met by a scattering fire that brought them 
to a halt, and knocked one man from his horse. 

It was the first man any of them had seen fall 
in actual combat, and a feeling of mingled curi- 
osity and humanity swept away all thought of 
discipline for the moment, and the men gathered 
about the poor fellow gasping on the ground. 
Little they thought then how familiarity with 
such scenes would make them indifferent. 

Paul saw the danger, and ordered the men for- 
ward. 

They discharged their carbines and dashed 
into the woods, a small body of horsemen giving 


Face to Face. 


55 


way before them, and leaving two of their 
wounded companions behind. 

Meanwhile, the rattle of musketry, the boom- 
ing of artillery, and cheers and yells came from 
the undulating' space to the left, where the first 
battle between kinsmen was being fought in 
Kentucky. 

Over the field there hung a canopy of silvery 
smoke, through which bayonets gleamed and the 
artillery flashed, but the battle tide came no 
nearer to Paul Rosser and the men on the hill. 

About the middle of the afternoon, it became 
evident that the southern troops were falling 
back on the river, and to Paul this was confirmed 
by the appearance of Howard Raymond, who 
galloped up with an order, commanding him to 
support a section of Kinney’s Battery, which was 
hurrying to the river-bank to prevent Zollicoffer’s 
men — or rather Crittenden’s, for Zollicoffer had 
been killed — from crossing. 

Raymond said his instructions were to see this 
order carried out, and so he accompanied Paul 
Rosser’s troop to the river, where the artillery 
was unlimbering. 

Already many of the southern troops had been 


56 


Face to Face . 


ferried over at a point lower down, and out of 
range of Kinney’s guns. 

While they were watching the two steamers 
plying back and forth, there suddenly shot out 
from the northern shore, not two hundred yards 
away, a little yawl, rowed by a black man, and 
with a white man in the stern. 

Paul looked at them through his glass, and, to 
his horror, he saw that the occupants of the boat 
were his brother and Ovid. At the same time 
he heard Raymond shouting, as he rushed to the 
guns : 

“Fire, men! Fire! Don’t let that man 
escape !” 


The Retreat . 


57 


CHAPTER V. 

THE RETREAT. 

On seeing his brother’s danger, Paul Rosser 
forgot all about the victory, all about the war, 
everything, indeed, but his love for the brave 
youth down in the river. 

“ Stop !” he shouted to the men who were 
training the two pieces of artillery so as to bear 
on the fugitive. 

“ Get out of the way !” thundered the lieuten- 
ant who was in charge of the guns, and who 
stood with the lanyard of one of them in his 
hand, ready to fire when the piece had been suf- 
ficiently depressed. 

Paul sprang directly in front of the nearest 
gun, and the artillerymen looked at him in 
amazement. 

“ Shoot him down if he does not get out of the 
way !” roared Raymond. 

Looking directly at the artillery officer, and 


58 


The Retreat. 


pointing over his shoulder at the river, Paul 
called out: 

“ That man in the boat is my brother !” 

“ But an enemy !” hissed Raymond. 

“ Blood is thicker than water, Captain,” said 
the young officer, as he dropped the lanyard ; 
“ and confound the man who won’t stand-by his 
brother, whether in blue or gray !’ 

Paul Rosser ran forward, seized the artillery- 
man’s hand, and then turned to watch the boat, 
which, caught by the mid-current of the river, 
was sweeping down and out of sight. 

“ I shall report this !” said Raymond, as, with 
an oath, he flung himself on his horse. “ I’ll 
report this to the general at once !” 

The artilleryman sent back the oath with 
interest, and suggested to Raymond the pro- 
priety of going home and having a responsible 
guardian appointed. 

Meanwhile, the boat drifted down the river. 
It was a rather leaky affair, and it was only by 
constant bailing that Harry could keep it afloat, 
while Ovid pulled at the oars with all his might. 
Indeed, he pulled so hard that one of the oars 


The Retreat. 


59 


broke, and at once the boat was at the mercy of 
the current. 

“ Great massy !” cried Ovid, when he realized 
the situation. “ We’s a-driftin’ to de side we 
come from, an’ if we gets dar, we’ll fall into de 
hands of dem dog-goned Yankees!” 

It looked for a time very much as if this would 
be their fate, but, telling Ovid to bail, Harry 
took the remaining oar, and, standing erect in 
the stern, he used it as a paddle, and so kept 
away from the dangerous bank. 

It was dark for an hour, and they had drifted 
about eight miles from their place of departure, 
when, guided by a light on the left bank, and 
favored by the slowness of the current at that 
point, Harry succeeded in making a landing. 
His men had been forced to abandon their 
horses, but he sent them all over the river in the 
steamer some time before he left the dangerous 
side. 

He had with him his own arms and a consid- 
erable sum of money, so that he did not fear for 
himself, so long as he kept out of reach of the 
enemy. 

“ I tell you what, Mauss Harry,” said Ovid, 


6o 


The Retreat . 


after they had abandoned the boat and climbed 
up the slippery bank ; “ dis yar t’ing of warrin’ 
an’ fightin’ ain’t what it’s cracked up to be ! 
Golly ! jest t’ink how nice it ’d be ef you an’ me 
was bofe home at de ole place now ! We wouldn’t 
be cold an’ wet an’ hungry, and not know whar 
to go, very long. But now it does ’peah power- 
ful like ’s ef de Confed’rit Army had lost us !” 

“ Don’t lose heart, Ovy ; we’ll come out right 
after awhile,” said Harry, with affected cheerful- 
ness. 

“ Wal, sah, de fac’ is, I ain’t got no heart to 
lose,” groaned Ovy. 

“ Then you’d like to go home?” 

“ For a fac’, sah, I would.” 

“Very well. We’ll find some place to stay 
to-night, and to-morrow I’ll give you money and 
start you back.” 

“ An’ you, Mauss Harry ; w’at ’s yeh gwine to 
do wid yehsel’ ?” 

“ 1 shall make my way back to the army and 
fight till the end.” 

“ Den I’ze gwine to stan’ by yeh. No, sah ; 
you can’t send me away, ef you don’t come along. 
I told mammy I’d stick to you cl’ar tode ind,an’ 


The Retreat. 


61 

I ain’t gwine to let you send rt)e home. Now, 
let me tote yer gun an’ make foh some house. 
Dar must be one close by, foh it seems to me 
pawahful like ’s ef I smelt hoe-cake an’ fried 
chicken.” 

Harry laughed, for he thought the boy’s imag- 
ination was as strong as his appetite, and 
together they made their way through the woods, 
in the direction of the light they had seen from 
the river. 

After groping along for about a mile, they heard 
the sharp, wolfish barking of a dog, and soon after 
a steady light came to view in front ; in the centre 
of which they could see the dark outline of a 
woman’s form. 

“Hello! Whose out thar?” shouted a shrill 
female voice, when Harry came within hearing. 

“ Friends,” was the reply. 

“ Who be yeh ?” demanded the woman. 

“ A soldier and his servant.” 

“Yanks?” 

“ No. Confeds.” 

“ Whar you come from ?” 

“ Fishing Creek.” 

“ Been a fight?” 


62 


The Retreat . 


“ Yes.” 

“ Who’s licked T 

“ I’m not.” 

4< Whar’s the rest ?” 

“ I don’t know, but they’ll turn up all right,” 
said Harry, still pushing on till he stood before 
the open door of a double log-cabin. 

“ Wal, ef you don’t know whar your side is,” 
said the woman, without attempting to move, 
“ and you ain’t licked, then it’s safe to say some 
one’s right smart demoralized.” 

“ I think you are right, madam ; but if you can 
give me and my servant something to eat and a 
place to rest till morning, I shall be very thank- 
ful, and pay you your price.” 

This speech had a softening effect on the 
woman, for she stepped back from the door, and 
told them to come in. 

The room in which Harry found himself was 
poorly furnished, but a great wood-fire blazed on 
the big hearth, and before it a number of gaunt 
yellow dogs were lying, and two scantily dressed 
tow-headed children were playing — indeed, the 
little ones seemed devoid of childish curiosity, 


The Retreat . 


63 


for they scarcely looked up to see the new 
arrivals. 

The woman was lank, lean and sallow, about 
thirty-five years of age, dressed in a shapeless 
cotton gown, and she had in one hand a bottle of 
black snuff, and with the other she rubbed her 
yellow teeth with a stick that had a swab on the 
end. This swab she jabbed into the snuff every 
few seconds ; and Harry, who had hqard of the 
practice, did not need to be told that the woman 
was addicted to “ dipping/’ 

“ We ain’t got much fodder in the house,” said 
the woman, stopping in her dipping to take a 
critical look at Harry ; Ovy she completely 
ignored ; “ but my ole man an’ Lishe — Lishe is 
my ole man’s brother — them two’s gone out 
scrimmigin’, an’ I reckon they’ll be back with a 
right smart mess of suthin’ purty soon ; so set 
down an’ injoy yersel’.” 

Harry accepted this hospitable invitation by 
sitting down on a wooden bench, and making 
room for Ovy beside him. 

He was about to question the woman about 
the feelings of her husband and “ Lishe,” with a 
view to ascertaining their feelings about the war, 


64 


The Retreat . 


for he knew that there were a great many Union 
men in the mountains thereabouts, but he was 
changed from his purpose by the barking of a 
dog outside, the sound of gruff voices, and the 
breaking of twigs under heavy feet. 

Immediately after, two men, dressed in butter- 
nut suits, with rifles in their hands, and slouched 
hats pulled well over their dark, heavily bearded 
faces, came in, each carrying a good-sized pack 
upon his back. 

They showed no surprise at seeing Harry and 
his servant — perhaps because the woman has- 
tened to explain who her visitors were. 

The men were brothers ; they looked like 
twins; and the one whom the woman called 
“ Dick Herd,” and who proved to be her hus- 
band, set down his load, and said, as he shook 
hands with Harry : 

“ An’ so, streen-ger, you was one of Zolly’s 
men ?” 

“ I was,” said Harry, something telling him 
that if this man was not a Unionist, he was cer- 
tainly not a Confederate. 

“ You fou't, eh ?” 


The Retreat . 


65 


“ But didn’t make out, eh ?” 

“We did our best; men can do no more. I 
suppose you side with the South?” said Harry, 
determined to know his host. 

“Wal, I can jest say that I goes with the 
South altogether, or purty much mostly with the 
North. I’m kinder lost in the woods of a dark, 
rainy night. But you won’t make no mistake ef 
you count on me as a Cumberland Mounting 
man that goes in for Dick Herd every day in the 
week and twice o’ Sundays,” laughed the mount- 
aineer. 

“Yes,” joined in the man’s brother, Lishe Herd. 
“ On the side o’ the South, hit’s a rich man’s 
quarrel an’ a poor man’s fight ; on the side o’ the 
North, hit’s a howlin’ lot o’ abolitioners ; an’ 
atween the two, Dick an’ me, an’ a few more like 
us in these yar mountings, has ’bout made up 
our minds to stand sort o’ independent an’ fight 
both sides, pervidin’ we sees that we kin make 
somethin’ right smart by it.” 

To Harry this was a most startling confession. 
It implied an armed neutrality, unless there was 
some chance to make out of one side or the 
other; and it was evident, from the moral obli- 


66 


The Retreat. 


quity shown by the confession, that the men 
would not hesitate at any means to further their 
own ends. They were freebooters, without a 
scintilla of morals or an idea of patriotism. 

But Harry was far too prudent to give expres- 
sion to his feelings. 

“We are all divided in Kentucky,” he said; 
“ and for me, I am not going to cry down a man 
just because, he does not agree with me in 
everything.” 

“ Them’s sintimints that’ll wash an’ won’t lose 
rrflor,” said Dick Herd, who, having divested 
If of his rifle, powder-flask and bullet-pouch, 
iow opening the bundles which he and his 
brother had brought in. 

The bacon, flour, coffee, sugar and canned 
goods brought to view looked as if the Herds 
had just been making a raid on some quarter- 
master’s stores, and this suspicion was strength- 
ened, when two canteens were brought to view. 

“ These things ain’t impty,” said Dick Herd, 
holding up one of the canteens and shaking it, 
“an’ they ain’t filled with water nuther. Har, 
Bess, git me a gourd !” the last sentence was 
addressed to the larger of the tow-headed chil- 


The Retreat . 


67 


dren, who on the instant sprang up from the 
hearth, seized a drinking gourd that hung over 
a water bucket near the door, and handed it to 
her father. 

The man filled the gourd with whiskey from 
the canteen, took a drink to show it was all 
right, and then passed it to Harry, who said, 
“ Good health,” and pretended to take a long 
pull at the liquor. 

From hand to hand the gourd was passed till 
the younger child drained the last drop, and 
then Dick Herd poured out a drink for Ovy, 
remarking, as he handed it to him : 

“Ef you don’t swaller the last drop, I’ll skelp 
you.” 

Ovy did swallow the stuff, and for some min- 
utes thereafter, he looked as if he must either 
strangle or have his eyes pop out of his head. 

With the aid of a frying-pan, a kettle and a 
baking “ skillet,” Mrs. Herd soon had a plentiful 
supper ready. It was set on a slab table in the 
middle of the room, with tin dishes and a few 
cracked earthen ones ; and while Harry appeased 
his hunger with the family, Ovy was served with 
a bountiful supply on the hearth. 


68 


The Retreat. 


After supper Dick and Lishe Herd lit their 
corn-cob pipes by way of dessert. Mrs. Herd 
began to “ dip ” faster than ever, and the tow- 
headed children — with the lean dogs, which had 
had not been overlooked during the repast — 
cuddled up and went to sleep before the fire. 

Seeing that his host was feeling comfortable, 
if not amiable, under the influence of liquor and 
a hearty meal, Harry hinted that he wanted a 
place for himself and his servant to sleep for the 
night, and said that if Dick Herd or his brother 
guided them back to the army in the morning, 
he would pay them for their trouble. 

“ Oh, we don’t want no pay,” said Dick Herd, 
after shooting a meaning glance at his brother, 
“ it ain’t the custom of these yar mountings to 
take pay from streen-gers that chances in. 
Come, I can give you blankets in the other 
cabin, ef you don’t object to sleepin’ in the same 
room with yer boy.” 

Harry said that he not only did not object, 
but rather preferred this arrangement, where- 
upon Dick Herd lit a lard lamp and led the 
way to the adjoining cabin. 

It was a dirty, dismal place, filled with deer 


The Retreat. 


69 


antlers, drying pelts, and the ruin of a lot of 
agricultural implements that had long been 
obsolete among intelligent farmers. 

“ Har’s the blankets ; divide ’em an’ shake ’em 
down whar’ you please,” said Dick Herd, point 
ing to a bundle on the floor, and fastening the 
iron lamp between the gaping chinks of the 
logs. 

Harry thanked his host, and said “ Good- 
night ” as he went away. 

When Dick Herd entered the other cabin, and 
closed the door behind him, his brother looked 
up and asked : 

“ Dick, are you going to let that feller slip?” 


70 


War and Rumors of War . 


CHAPTER VI. 

WAR AND RUMORS OF WAR. 

News of the battle on the Cumberland sped 
through the South, and the confident people, who 
had come to look upon their soldiers as invinci- 
ble, began eagerly to inquire for the error that 
had produced such a result. 

News of the battle of Mill Springs, the first 
decided victory on the side of the Union, rang 
through the North, encouraging the sanguine 
and cheering the despondent. 

News of the battle flashed through Kentucky, 
and was heard with varying feelings ; and it cast 
a gloom over more than one divided house. 

Kentucky was the one State in which there 
was an awful anxiety to learn the names of the 
dead and wounded on both sides. 

Up to the breaking out of the war — no, later 
— up to the time that her sons left her to fight on 
opposing sides, Mrs. Rosser took but little inter- 
est in the doings of the outside world, and but 


War and Rumors of War. 71 

seldom looked at the newspapers ; but all this 
was now changed. 

At that time, there was no daily paper pub- 
lished in Lexington, and Nicholasville was the 
terminus of the railroad from Cincinnati, from 
which point the daily papers came. To Nicho- 
lasville a horseman was sent every day at noon, 
and when he brought the papers back on his 
foaming horse, Mrs. Rosser devoured each one 
of them, and eagerly scanned the columns that 
purported to give the doings of the Southern 
army. 

On the afternoon of January 21st, she read of 
the battle at Mill Springs — and she knew that 
Paul was there. 

As usual, the losses on both sides were exag- 
gerated in the first reports, but no names were 
given. 

“ Clara,” she said to her ward after they had 
gone over all the papers, “ I cannot stand this 
anxiety ; 1 cannot wait till to-morrow.” 

“ But what can you do ?” asked Clara. 

“ I shall go to Mill Springs.” 

“ To Mill Springs !” repeated Clara. 

“Yes, at once. Tell Uncle Eph I want him.” 


72 


War and Rumors of War . 


And Mrs. Rosser fairly ran to her own room to 
prepare for her departure. 

Clara, knowing it was useless to try to dissuade 
her foster-mother from her purpose, summoned 
Uncle Eph, who speedily appeared, hat in hand, 
in the sitting-room. 

“ Eph,” said Mrs. Rosser, appearing with her 
hat and cloak on, “ you know the way to Har- 
rodsburg, Danville and Crab-Orchard ?” 

“ W’y, bress yeh, Missy,” said Eph, as he drew 
the hollow of his right arm over his head, “ I 
knows all dem roads jest as well as ef 1 made 
’em.” 

“ Very well. Put the best two horses to the 
carriage. Dress up warm, for it is cold, and I 
want you to drive me.” 

“ Lor’ !” gasped Eph ; “ wha — whar does yeh 
want me to drive yeh, Missy ?” 

“To Somerset, Mill Springs — to the Union 
army. Hurry, for I fear that Paul is dead !” 
cried the tortured woman. 

“ Mauss Paul dead !” groaned Eph. “ Den let 
dis servant depart in peace ! Mauss Paul dead ! 
Poo-ah Mauss Paul dead !” And repeating 
“ Poo-ah Mauss Paul dead !” Uncle Eph ran out 


War and Rumors of War. 


7o 

of the house to tell as an actual fact what his mis- 
tress had only expressed as her fear. 

Within a few minutes, Aunt Marfa appeared 
from the kitchen, heading a body of weeping ser- 
vants, and declaring between her sobs that she 
was sure that Virgil had not survived his 
young master. 

Clara soothed the servants as best she could, 
telling them that no news was good news, and, of 
course, failing to comfort them with that very 
unsatisfactory proverb. 

By the time Mrs. Rosser had packed a satchel 
with a few articles of clothing, and a great deal 
of material for lint and bandgages, Uncle Eph 
was before the door with a covered carriage 
drawn by two powerful bays. 

“ It will be only for a few days, my child. 
Send for Dora to come and stay with you. If I 
learn anything favorable on the way, I shall come 
back at once.” 

This is what Mrs. Rosser said, as she kissed 
Clara’s pale face and sprang into the carriage. 

Eph tried to say “ Good-bye,” to his wife, but 
the impatient horses sprang away, and the car- 
riage was whirled down the road. 


74 


War and Rumors of War. 


“ Oh Lor’ !” wailed Aunt Marfa, pulling the 
red bandanna from her head and applying it to 
her streaming eyes. “ De wah’s took my two 
boys, an’ now missy an’ my ole man’s gone, too,” 
and overcome by her emotions, she fell on the 
piazza in a swoon. 

Clara and the hysterical servants revived the 
cook, who tottered off to the kitchen, crying out 
that the world was coming to an end when the 
sun went down. 

And so it was that Clara Leroy found herself 
alone, sole mistress, for the time, of the dreary 
mansion which had been to her, so recently, the 
dearest, brightest, happiest place in all the wide 
world. She was stunned too much to find relief 
in tears, but the blow seemed only to intensify 
her mental faculties. With hands clasped before 
her, she sat by a window that commanded a view 
of the heavy, leaden sky and the country rolling 
south beyond the Kentucky River. 

She felt as if the man she so loved was lying 
dead in the next room, and yet, by an inexplica- 
ble paradox, she lamented in her heart the defeat 
of the Southern arms. 

She did not try to reconcile to herself these 


War arid Rumors of War. 


75 


opposite feelings, perhaps because patriotism is 
no more the outcome of reason than is love, 
though, like love, it is an emotion that impels to 
the noblest deeds and the greatest sacrifices. 

While she sat there at the window, between 
her and the leaden sky the forms of a horse and 
of a rider shot into view, and she recognized 
George Netly. 

The sight brought her back from her sad day- 
dreaming, and she rose, determined not to see 
him, when it struck her that he might have some 
news of the battle, and she changed her mind. 

George Netly was the son of a well-to-do 
planter, who lived an hour’s ride away. This 
young man, though never quite congenial, had 
been from boyhood a companion, if not a warm 
personal friend, of Harry’s. 

He always affected to treat Clara as if she were 
in truth Mrs. Rosser’s daughter, and so he took 
no particular pains to conceal the object of his 
frequent visits. 

George Netly was lacking in refinement, but 
he was not lacking in worldly shrewdness, a 
quality which it was said he inherited from his 
father, a canny Scotchman. 


76 


War and Rumors of War . 


Clara had never before received George Netly 
excepting in Mrs. Rosser’s presence, but if the 
young man noticed this his dull gray eyes 
expressed neither surprise nor pleasure. 

After the usual salutation, George Netly 
dropped into a chair and exclaimed: 

“ We’ve had an awful fight !” 

“ We /” repeated Clara. “Whom do you 
mean ?” 

“ Our folks and the Yankees,” explained Netly. 

“ At Mill Springs ?” 

“ Yes, Miss Clara ; that’s the place,” said Netly, 
with an importance he could not have assumed 
had he taken an active part in the battle. 

“ I have heard of that,” she said, quietly. 
“ Have you any particulars ?” 

“Yes; just come from Lexington. Kentucki- 
ans on both sides all cut to pieces ! That’s just 
like Kentuckians—” 

“ Mr. Netly !” 

“ Yes, Miss Clara,” he said, moistening his lips, 
and bringing his chair closer, the better to hear. 

“ You are a Kentuckian ?” 

“ I should be. I was born in Hardin county,” 


War and Rumors of War. 


77 


said Netly, straightening up, as if proud of the 
announcement. 

“ And you are a Southern man in your feel- 
ings ?” 

“ There ain’t a better nor a stronger one, Miss 
Clara, between the Ohio River and the Gulf of 
Mexico.” 

“ Oh, yes, there is,” she said, with a shade of 
bitterness in her voice, that no effort could have 
concealed. 

“ Well, if there is, I’d like to know the man,” 
said Netly, coughing behind his brawny hand.' 

“ Harry Rosser is a better Southern man than 
you.” 

“ Harry wouldn’t tell me so.” 

“ No, Mr. Netly ; because Harry Rosser is a 
gentleman, and so not given to bragging ; but he 
has given a proof of his love for and his devotion 
to the South by taking up arms in her defense. 
After you have imitated him, you will have better 
reason to boast of your patriotism. If I were a 
man I should act, not talk !” she said. 

George Netly was not a sensitive man, yet, 
if he had had the skin of a rhinoceros, he must 
have felt these keen thrusts, and seen that he 


73 


War and Rumors of War. 


had courted them when he knew himself to be 
vulnerable. But he had a great amount of 
inherited cunning, and a ready-made supply of 
excuses which he had used more than once 
before. 

“ You ought to know, Miss Clara,” he said, in 
hurt tones, “ that I am not my own master — ” 

“ But you are of age ?” she interrupted. 

“ I am.” 

“ And a free man ?” 

“ Yes, and a free man.” 

“ Then, what is to prevent your giving the help 
of your arm to the brave men who are fighting 
for the cause that is so dear to you ?” 

“ I will answer that, for it is a fair question, 
though l did not think, Miss Clara, that I would 
have to explain to you the reasons that chain me 
to home at this time.” 

George Netly looked at Clara, but as she made 
no comment, he proceeded : 

“ My mother, as you know, is an invalid, and 
my father is an old man — ” 

“ But he manages the place successfully, and 
attends to all the business,” said Clara. 

“ So he does, and if he alone were to be con- 


War and Rumors of War. 


79 


sidered I should leave at once, and with his con- 
sent ; but when I mentioned this thing to my 
mother she went into fits, and we had to call in 
two doctors. The question with me is, there- 
fore, whether I shall stay home and save my 
mother’s life, or — ” 

He hesitated, and Clara finished the sentence 
for him by adding : 

“ Or join the Southern army and risk your 
own.” 

“ I am not thinking about my own life, Miss 
Clara. If I only knew that my going into the 
Southern army to-morrow would make you 
think of me as 1 want you to do, I’d start to-night, 
without consulting father, mother, or any one 
else,” said the young man, desperately. 

“ Mr. Netly, I refuse to understand what you 
mean by my thinking of you as you would have 
me ; but you may be assured of this : I should 
respect you more and admire you more if you 
stopped talking about your patriotism and 
went to fighting,” said Clara, rising from her 
chair to show she wished the interview to end. 

This was not the sort of reception that George 
Netly expected, though, as he had never been 


8o 


War and Rumors of War . 


received with much warmth, there was no rea- 
son for him to expect different treatment, except 
it be that love lives on hope and grows strong 
on possibilities. 

He intended telling Clara a great deal about 
the battle, and then hinting at his own case ; but, 
as both were inflammable topics, he prudently 
said : “ Good r bye,” mounted his horse, and gal- 

loped away like a man in a hurry. 

George Netly was certainly a Southern man 
in his sympathies, and he may have been brave, 
but there is not the slightest doubt about his 
prudence. 

As he galloped home that evening, he asked 
himself this question over and over again : 

“ Shall I leave her, and go off to be killed, or 
shall I stay home — to defend her and win her ?” 

He felt strongly inclined to the latter course. 

Old Mr. Netly, like all men in that land who 
have risen by their own efforts, was rich and 
prosperous. There were no richer or better 
managed thousand acres in the State than his ; 
there were no slaves so poorly cared for, and yet 
there was no man, so he boasted, who could get 
more work out of his hands. 


War and Rumors of War. 


8 r 


He never contracted a debt nor left a bill 
uncollected. He had no politics, but he com- 
pensated for this by great pretensions to relig- 
ion ; and, all in all, he was looked on as a respec- 
table, well-to-do man. 

Old Mr. Netly met his son at the gate, leading 
up to a big brick mansion with a row of plas- 
tered pillars in front, and angrily asked why he 
had been riding “ that prime chestnut colt so 
hard.” 

George leaped to the ground, and said that he 
had hurried home to tell his father of his purpose 
to start south that night and join the Southern 
army. 

“ George Netly,” said the old man, grimly, “if 
you mean what you say, you are a born fool and 
no’ yer ain father’s son.” 

Then walking on by the young man’s side, he 
continued : 

“You and me have no’ brought on the war. 
Why, then, should we fash with it ?” 

“ Because all the young men are taking sides, 
and the girls sneer at me for staying home,” said 
George. 

“ Weel, weel, and so the girls sneer at you, eh ? 


82 


War and Rumors of War. 


But wait a wee, Georgy, my lad ; wait a wee till 
the war is over, and maist o’ the young men 
North and South’s kilt off ; wait till then, and see 
if the lassies’ll sneer at you. Why, mon, you’ll be 
in demand then, if Clara don’t have you before, 
and you’ll command a premium in the matri- 
monial market. And then there’ll be a grand 
chance for us to make out of the trouble; and 
wealth commands respect, and love, too. When 
you have twa hunert thousand dollars of yer ain 
to set alongside o’ Clara Leroy’s fortune, she’ll 
no’ be so cool ; trust me for that, my lad,” said 
the old man, unctuously ; and, like a dutiful son, 
George Netly was inclined to think his father 
was right. 


Harry's Adventures. 



CHAPTER VII. 

SHOWING HARRY’S ADVENTURES IN THE MOUN- 
TAINS. 

The whiskey Ovy had been compelled to drink 
certainly affected his head, but instead of making 
him reckless and more valorous, which is its effect 
on most men, it seemed to have stimulated his 
caution. 

Creeping close to Harry in the darkness, after 
the lamp had gone out of its own accord, he whis- 
pered : 

“ Say, Mauss Harry, has yeh done gone to 
sleep ?” 

Although he was thoroughly fatigued, Harry’s 
thoughts banished sleep, so he replied in the same 
tones : 

“ No, but I shall be asleep shortly.” 

“ T’ink it’s safe ?” 

“ I think so.” 

“Wal, I don’t, an’ ef you say so, I’d like to 
sleep one at a time.” 


34 


Harry 's A dven tu res . 


“ Why so?” 

“ I don’t like dat woman.” 

“ She’s not very charming, Ovy.” 

“ Nor dem men.” 

“ I’ve seen more attractive fellows.” 

“ Got yer pistols handy, Mauss Harry ?” 

“ Yes and Harry felt under his head to make 
sure. 

“ An’ de gun ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Wal, 1 have de sword, an’ ef dat door was 
only locked, 1 t’ink I colild try to sleep — one eye 
at a time.” 

Ovy did try this, but though the operation is 
often spoken of, there is no authentic evidence 
that it was ever successfully performed. 

Master and man, indifferent to the danger, were 
soon sound asleep, and the misty daylight was 
creeping through the open chinks of the cabin 
when they awoke. 

The sound of hoarse voices outside told them 
that Dick Herd and his brother were up and 
moving. 

Harry pulled on his boots, and was dressed 
when he opened the door, and found the moun- 


Harry s Adventures , 


85 


taineers in the covered passage-way between the 
two cabins. 

“ Wal, I reckon you feel right smart better 
after yer sleep,” was Dick Herd’s salutation, 
when Harry came to view. 

“ Yes, thank you, I am all right,” said Harry ; 
“ and now, if I can get some breakfast, and have 
one of you men to start me on the road toward 
my friends, I shall be much obliged,” said Harry. 

“ You mean Zolly’s army ?” asked Dick Herd. 

Harry said he did. 

“ Wal, a man who said he’d fit with that army 
over at Fishin’ Crik, passed here ’bout an hour 
afore day, an’ said that the army was all gone to 
smash and scattered, an’ that he was one of the 
pieces, an’ the rest was scootin’ through the 
mountings for the Tennessee line, with the hull 
pack of Yankees a-howlin’ behind. But, I say, 
streen-ger — ” 

“ What is it, Mr. Herd ?” 

“ I can guide you to a place whar thar’s a lot 
of my friends camped, an! if you fancy ’em after 
you’ve looked ’em all over and seen what they’re 
in for, you might like to jine. What do you 
say ?” 


86 


Ha rry s A dven tu res . 


“Yes,” added Lishe Herd, “ what’s your 
notion ’bout that ?” 

“ Why, I shall certainly be glad to see your 
friends,” said Harry, without a moment’s hesita- 
tion, though in his case, thought was quicker 
than words. 

“ Hooray ! You’re a good one ! Shake hands 
on it !” cried the brothers in chorus ; and Harry 
gave each a hand with a fine assumption of 
heartiness. 

Mrs. Herd must have been cooking for some 
time before this, for the agreement was hardly 
made, when she appeared at the door, to say 
that breakfast was ready. 

The meal was a repetition of the supper, even 
to the whiskey before and the pipes and the dip- 
ping afterward. 

Mrs. Herd refused to take any money for the 
entertainment of her guest and his servant, but 
Harry made up for this by slipping a five-dollar 
gold-piece into the hand of one of the tow-headed 
children. 

Soon after breakfast, Harry started off with 
the two mountaineers, Ovy bringing up the rear 


Harry's Adventures . 


87 


with his master’s sword and belt slung over 
his shoulder. 

Save for an occasional little clearing and a 
cabin here and there, the country was as desti- 
tute of signs of civilization as when, one hundred 
years before, the red men roamed through its 
forests. Roads there were none, Harry’s guides 
marching in single file over a water-washed trail, 
which in places would have been impassable for 
a mounted man. 

As soon as the march began, the guides 
became taciturn, and as they strode on in front, 
Harry wondered to himself how this adventure 
was going to end. 

He was determined to find out for himself just 
who these men and their companions were ; for 
if they were organized and Union men, it might 
be of great importance to the Southern com- 
manders in that region to know the facts. 

They kept steadily on till noon, not having 
seen a house for many miles, when they reached 
the crest of a mountain, and the two guides came 
to a halt. 

“ Down thar,” said Dick Herd, pointing to a 
deep valley, from one side of which a pillar of 


88 


H a rry 's A dven tu res. 


smoke could be seen rising into the misty air— 
“ down thar’s whar we’ve got our camp.” 

“ It seems to be a snug place,” said Harry at a 
venture. 

“You can bet it is,” said the mountaineer, 
“ and we-uns is goin’ to keep it snug, if we has 
to fight for it.” 

“ That’s right,” said Harry. 

“ The boys you’ll meet down thar,” continued 
Dick Herd, “ ain’t no slouches ; they’re all men, 
from the ground up ; an’ if you don’t feel like 
cornin’ in an’ j’inin’, then you ain’t the man I 
take you for, that’s all.” And having delivered 
this speech with much emphasis, he strode down 
the slippery trail leading into the valley. 

It looked as if a strong man might throw a 
stone into the valley from the crest of the hill, 
yet it was fully an hour after beginning the 
descent before the party reached the bottom. 

They were evidently seen coming down, for 
while they were yet some distance from the fire, 
a half-dozen lank, sallow men, all carrying long 
rifles and all dressed in butternut suits, came to 
view. 

They expressed no surprise at seeing Harry, 


Harry s Adventures , 


89 


but simply acknowledged his presence by a curt 
“ How-dee,” and then took Dick Herd ahead, 
and talked to him in whispers. 

At length they came to a clear mountain stream 
running close to a series of cavernous cliffs, at the 
base of which a number of rude log-cabins had 
recently been built. 

Here they found fifty or more men, all dressed 
so much alike as to seem in uniform, and all look- 
ing as much alike as a lot of Chinese when seen 
for the first time by a white man. 

All were seemingly in the prime of life, and, 
though lank of form and dull of eye, there was 
that in their movements that denoted unusual 
powers of endurance, and that in their bearing 
that told of immense physical courage. 

Harry was introduced to these men in a gen- 
eral way, and it soon became evident to him that 
they acknowledged Dick Herd as their leader. 

Lishe Herd had brought on with him the two 
canteens, and these were at once produced and 
passed from hand to hand, or rather from mouth 
to mouth, till not a drop was left. 

While there were no horses in sight, there were 
stacks of saddles and other equipments, and such 


90 


Harry s Adventures. 


a miscellaneous lot of commissary, quartermaster 
and ordnance stores in and about the cabins, that 
Harry made up his mind that these fellows must 
have been raiding on the supplies of one army or 
the other, perhaps of both armies; and, as it 
turned out very shortly, he was not mistaken in 
this surmise. 

The men were well supplied with provisions, 
and a dozen or more of them started in at once 
to get dinner for the newcomers. 

While the meat was being prepared, Dick 
Herd had conferences with groups of the men, 
out of Harry’s hearing, but that he was the sub- 
ject of their conversation was evident from the 
many glances they shot in his direction. 

After dinner Dick Herd took Harry to one 
side, and without any preliminaries he said : 

“ Now, streen-ger, 1 reckon you ken see who 
we-uns is ?” 

“ I can see that you are a fine body of men and 
ought to make good soldiers,” said Harry, guard- 
edly. 

“We are all that an’ more too. But my p’int’s 
this : W e ain’t in for helpin’ either side — not right 
straight along.” 


Harry's Adventures. 91 

“ Am I to understand," said Harry, unable to 
conceal his astonishment, “ that you propose to 
help one side for awhile and then turn in and help 
the other side ?” 

“Yes, that’s ’bout the size of it, except it may 
be so if the balance kinder hangs even-like, that 
we-uns will have to turn to an’ fight both sides." 

On expressing a desire to learn the details of 
this remarkable arrangement, and the reasons for 
it, Dick Herd went on to explain at length. 

He said that he and all the mountain men were 
poor. They did not like Yankees, though they 
did not know anything about them ; and having 
no slaves, and not wishing to have any, they did 
not propose to fight for the South. 

They saw that the war must result in ruin, 
plunder and destruction wherever it came, and 
he didn’t think there would be much of it in 
that region. But organized as “ independent 
rangers," Herd said, he and his companions 
could swoop down on the rich villages, to the 
south, if the Union armies won, or plunder the 
stragglers and weak camps if the Union armies 
were worsted. 

“ Or," he said, by way of an all-powerful clos- 


92 


H a rry *s A dven tu res. 


in g argument, “ if things hangs in the balance, 
kinder even like, we ken first light down on one 
and then on the other. And when the war’s 
over, we-uns won’t be no poorer for it, you ken 
bet yer sweet life. Now I’ve talked to the boys, 
and if you take the oath, they’ll make you their 
cap’n at once. What do you say ?” 

Harry said he felt much complimented by the 
honor, and that the scheme looked promising, 
but that, as he had not left home with such an 
object in view, he wanted till the next day to 
think it over. 

To this arrangement Dick Herd agreed at 
once, and Harry sought out his servant, and whis- 
pered to him : 

“Keep near me after dark, Ovy. We are 
among foes, and must escape from this camp 
to-night.” 

At the suggestion, Ovy turned several shades 
darker than usual, and the whites of his eyes 
several shades whiter, while he gasped : 

“ Is dey Yankees?” 

“ Worse, Ovy ; worse.” 

Ovy, who had no very good opinion of Yan- 
kees — he considered himself an out-and-out Con- 


Harry's Adventures . 


93 


federate — could not see how this could well be, 
but appreciating the necessity for caution, he 
asked for no further explanation. 

During the afternoon the mountaineers amused 
themselves by shooting at a mark with their 
heavy hunting rifles, and the skill they displayed 
amazed Harry, who up to this time had consid- 
ered himself an expert with that weapon, so 
popular with the old Kentuckians. 

During the evening, Dick Herd frequently 
came to Harry and asked hirn how he was get- 
ting on with his thinking, and invariably he got 
the reply : 

“ I think you and your men will find I am all 
right to-morrow.” 

These replies disarmed the mountaineer’s sus- 
picion, and this, with the additional fact that 
they were in no danger of interference from out- 
side, may have been their reason for going to 
sleep that night without making any show of 
stationing pickets in the approaches to the 
valley. 

While it was yet light, Harry had perfected 
his plans. 

The mountaineers saw no reason why the ser- 


94 


Shiloh. 


vant should not sleep near his master, nor did 
they wonder that the master should prefer to 
sleep under a tree to being in one of the cabins, 
like the rest of the party. 

Soon after midnight the fires died down, and 
Harry Rosser felt that his opportunity had 
come. 

He whispered to Ovy, who rose without a 
sound ; then, with his own rifle in the hollow of 
his arm, and the black boy carrying the sword, 
they stole out of camp. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

SHILOH. 

The battle tide, that first rose on the shores of 
the Atlantic, poured west over villages and 
mountains, nor staid its course till it beat in red 
waves against the walls of the Rockies. 

On the great arterial rivers, where hitherto 
only the peaceful craft of commerce were seen, 


Shiloh . 


95 


huge, black gunboats prowled like a new variety 
of water monster. 

The lands and islands, that hitherto had served 
only to add beauty and variety to the scenery, 
were now cut and scarred by red fortifications, 
above which — like deadly cameras — the muzzles 
of great guns frowned. 

The whole great land was a military camp. 

The work of death went daily on along the 
ever-growing battle line, and to the north and 
south of this, men and women were working and 
praying for the success of their own side. 

After the battle of Mill Springs, General 
Thomas’ army was ordered to join General 
Buell, then advancing on Bowling Green, and 
Captain Paul Rosser’s command was sent across 
country in the advance. 

When they were passing through Crab- 
Orchard, Paul heard his name called, and, on look- 
ing around him, he saw Uncle Eph standing on 
the street and waving his hat to attract attention. 

Paul dismounted, tossed his bridle-rein to one 
of his men, and then ran with extended hands to 
the faithful old servant. 

Before Paul could express his delight and sur- 


9 6 


Shiloh. 


prise, or ask why Uncle Eph was so far from 
home, the latter called out with camp-meeting 
fervor : 

“ Oh, bress de good Lor’, Mauss Paul, yeh 
ain’t done kilt dead ! An’ me an’ Missus has 
come on to find yeh. But de sojers wouldn’t let 
us go no furder.” 

“My mother — is she here?” cried Paul. 

“Yes, sah ; she’s done come, too, an’ she’s in 
dat house right back of whar we two’s now 
standin’,” said Uncle Eph, turning about and 
pointing to the door of a cottage a few yards 
away. 

Without waiting to hear more, Paul ran into 
the house, and was soon locked in his delighted 
mother’s arms. 

But now that she had Paul safe and sound 
before her, she thought of the safety of her other 
boy — -he had never been absent from her mind — 
and she asked : 

“ Have you heard from Harry?” 

“ Yes, mother,” was the reply. “ 1 saw him a 
few days ago.” 

“ Saw him !” she exclaimed. 

“ I did, and I have every reason to believe he 


DOWN THAR,” SAID^DICK HERD, POINTING^TO A DEEP VALLEY.— See Page 87 






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Shiloh. 


97 


is alive and well.” And then, without saying 
anything about Howard Raymond, Paul told 
how he saw Harry and the black boy crossing 
the river, or, at least, disappearing down the 
river in a boat. 

The delighted mother thanked Heaven for the 
safety of both her sons, and then related to Paul 
all of importance that had happened since he left, 
beginning, as he wished, by speaking about 
Clara. 

Paul found time to pencil a note to the dear 
girl, then kissed his mother — for his orders not 
to delay were imperative — and rode away. 

At a bend of the road he looked back, and 
saw her standing before the little cottage, and 

A 

just before he lost the view he raised his hat 
and saw the flutter of the handkerchief she 
waved. 

And so, with a lighter heart, Mrs. Rosser went 
to her peaceful home ; and Paul, so happy for 
having seen her, rode down to the harvest-fields 
of death. 

After Mill Springs, Paul lost sight of Howard 
Raymond, and he learned, from official orders, 
that that fortunate young man had been detailed 


9 8 


Shiloh. 


to recruit in Central Kentucky ; a position which 
would keep him near his home, and give him all 
the credit that attached to the service, without 
subjecting him to any of its hardships or dangers. 

To narrate all that happened up to April, 1862, 
would take volumes instead of columns, and so 
we must pass it over to consider the more 
important events in the career of our two heroes 
—the members of a divided house. 

On the way to Nashville, Paul was joined by 
Sam Martin, the young East Tennesseean who 
had been captured from his troop in Kentucky, 
and who had made his escape and come back 
to his old command, very ragged, but as full of 
vigor and spirit as ever. 

In recognition of his exploit, Captain Rosser 
made Sam Martin his orderly, and from that 
time forward they were never apart in the field. 

Paul reported to General Buell, and led the 
advance on Nashville. On reaching that city, a 
citizen and stranger sought him out and handed 
him a letter, which he said had been left in his 
keeping by a young officer who formed one of 
the rear-guard of General Johnston’s army. 

This letter proved to be from Harry, and was 


Shiloh. 


99 


as full of brotherly affection as if the two were 
fighting under the same banner. 

Harry wrote at length, describing his adven- 
tures at the battle of Mill Springs, and his escape 
from Dick Herd’s guerrillas in the Cumberland 
Mountains. 

He told how he had gradually gathered up his 
own men, and rejoiced that they were now under 
the command of a general who knew what dis- 
cipline was, and would see that it was enforced. 

On the morning of Sunday, April the 6th, and 
about the time when Paul thought his mother 
and Clara would be preparing for church, he sat 
down before the camp-fire near Savannah, on the 
Tennessee River, and wrote to each a long letter. 

He had just sent these letters to General Nelson 
to have them forwarded, when he was startled 
by hearing heavy thunder to the south. 

He looked up, and there was not a cloud visi- 
ble, save a small fleck of white near the sun, that 
looked like a peace banner let down from Heaven 
as a truce, that beautiful Sabbath morning. 

Again and again the deep, heavy booming was 
heard. 

“ Reckon there’s a right smart fight goin’ on 


IOO 


Shiloh. 


over thar,” said Sergeant Sam Martin, raising his 
right hand to his hat, and then pointing in the 
direction of the sound. 

Before the captain could make a reply, the 
drums of the infantry regiments in the white 
camps — like the continued discharges of mus- 
ketry — began to beat “ the long roll,” and the 
men, already prepared for “ Sunday inspection,” 
formed by companies for the more serious work 
of war. 

The call of “ boots and saddles ” rang out from 
the fields where the artillery was parked and the 
cavalry horses picketed. 

In an instant the quiet camp was a scene of 
tumult but not of confusion. Here and there 
and everywhere there were the flashing of scab- 
bards, the jangle of bridle-chains and the ring of 
iron hoofs, as the aids dashed back and forth, 
carrying orders to and from the points now 
marked by long blue lines and fluttering flags. 

Within five minutes Captain Paul Rosser had 
broken camp, and his troop was mounted, ready 
for the next order. 

It soon came in the form of a despatch from 
General Buell, ordering Captain Rosser to pro- 


Shiloh. 


IOl 


ceed with his troop to Pittsburg Landing and 
deliver into the hands of Major-General Grant 
the letter which accompanied the order. 

The captain’s horses were in good condition, 
and his men strong and eager. 

He knew that he bore an important message 
to the army, now hotly engaged — a message 
promising succor — and he was resolved to deliver 
it as soon as possible. 

The line was formed; the guidon fluttered 
from the centre ; the bugle sounded the advance ; 
and Paul Rosser rode for Shiloh at the head of 
his men. 

At first at a trot, and then at a smart gallop ; 
but still high above the thundering hoofs of the 
flying squadron rose the roar of battle to the 
west and the south. 

On, on for three hours, even the horses, wild- 
eyed and foam-flecked, seeming to share in the 
wild excitement. 

At length they came to a point where, from 
the hills on the opposite shore, silvery clouds 
rolled up between the woods and- the sun, as if to 
vail from the light of heaven the bloody work 
going on beneath. 


102 


Shiloh. 


The horses were now brought down to a walk, 
and the ceaseless roar of musketry could be 
heard on the opposite shore. 

Captain Rosser soon * reached the bank, 
announced his mission to the captain of a trans- 
port steamer, and was ferried across with his 
troop. 

He found the sailors demoralized. He was 
told that the Union army had been “ attacked 
by an overwhelming force and routed.’' As he 
neared the opposite shore, he saw thousands of 
men skulking under the shelter of the bank ; they 
were men in blue, and without arms. He was 
fired with indignation at this gathering of 
cowards, but the ceaseless pounding of the guns 
on the hills and the never-ceasing roar of artil- 
lery told him that there were brave men left 
who did not despair of the contest. 

On the opposite side he disembarked, and his 
men led their horses up the wagon-way to the 
road that runs from Pittsburg Landing to 
Corinth. 

Here indeed was war with a vengeance. 
Every building in sight had a hospital flag over 


Shiloh. 


103 

it, and the dead and the wounded lay in heaps 
beside the road. 

Leaving his men standing by their horses, 
Captain Rosser, accompanied by Sam Martin, 
rode up the road to a log-hut, about four hun- 
dred yards from the river, where he was told 
General Grant had his headquarters. 

He found the imperturbable commander, deliv- 
ered the letter from General Buell, and then 
asked to be assigned a position in the line with 
his troop. 

Sam Martin was sent to Lieutenant James, the 
officer next in command, to bring up the troop ; 
and under the guidance of an aid they were con- 
ducted to Lick Creek, on the extreme left, a posi- 
tion now held by the remnants of Hurlburt and 
Prentiss’ commands. 

On every hand were the signs of an awful dis- 
aster, and the stark forms of the gallant fellows 
who had tried to arrest it. 

“ Advance along Lick Creek till you feel the 
enemy, and report from time to time their move- 
ments in your front.” 

These were Captain Rosser’s orders, and, with- 
out delay, he proceeded to <^rry them out. 


104 


Shiloh . 


Flanking torn infantry regiments, he led his 
men on through a marshy jungle of willows, and 
out to the edge of a field, which, no matter what 
crop may have been on it before, was now sown 
with the sleeping whose ears would never again 
be stirred by an earthly bugle-call. 

Across the field was a belt of woods, and 
before this the gray-clad soldiers of the South 
were drawn up in long lines, as if for inspection, 
while a heavy body of skirmishers, well advanced 
to the front, opened fire on the troopers as soon 
as they came in sight. 

Captain Rosser dismounted his command, 
moved the horses out of fire, and deployed his 
men in the open, where he ordered them to lie 
down and use their carbines. 

Beyond the desultory fire of the skirmishers, 
but little was done at that point during the after- 
noon, though the thunders of the battle deepened 
as night settled over the scene. 

But that was not to be a night of rest, save to 
those who had gone to their long repose. 

The transports were busy bringing over troops 
who marched into position in the darkness ; and 
from right to left, through the ranks of the men 


Shiloh. 


105 


who had been so worsted, the news went in glad 
whispers : “ Buell is up ! Relief has come !” 

Through the night the gun-boats sent their 
screeching shells over the ranks of one army and 
into the ranks of another, so near were they 
when darkness and exhaustion put an end to the 
contest. 

All through the night, fresh regiments, bri- 
gades and divisions were feeling their way into 
the battle-line to be ready for the morrow ; and 
here and there, along the awful front, the flash 
and crack of a rifle told that the pickets on both 
sides were on the alert. 

With the first dawn of day, Lew Wallace 
opened the battle on the right, and his first guns 
were the signal for another day of carnage. 

The fragments of a cavalry regiment, that had 
been severely handled the day before, was 
ordered to report to Captain Rosser, thus raising 
his effective force to about two hundred men. 

With daylight, Captain Rosser found himself 
under the command of General Crittenden, of 
Kentucky, who also had a brother on the other 
side. 

The order to advance was given, and the long, 


io6 


Shiloh. 


blue lines moved steadily forward, the Confeder- 
ates falling back in good order, till about nine 
o’clock, when they made a gallant — an unexpected 
stand. 

At this point they had won their greatest vic- 
tory the day before, and here they seemed deter- 
mined to repeat their success. 

The soldiers on both sides were largely Ken- 
tuckians, and they seemed to be aware of the 
fact. 

The Confederates massed two batteries of 
artillery, which they had captured the day before, 
and with these they opened a staggering fire on 
the advancing division, and caused it to halt. 

General Crittenden rode over to where Paul 
Rosser was sitting on his horse, and said : 

“ Captain, can you take your men down the 
ravine till you come to the woods at the right of 
the advanced battery, and rise the hill, wheel, and 
charge it ?” 

“ I can try, sir,” was the reply. 

“ Good ! Carry out the movement at once.” 

The captain turned to his men, and gave the 
order in a low tone. It was passed along the 


Shiloh . 


107 


ranks, and, by fours, the horsemen descended to 
the ravine and pushed forward. 

Cloaked by the willows, 'they escaped observa- 
tion till they came to the wooded hill on the 
right, and the small body of troops at this point 
were so taken by surprise, that they fell back 
after a scattering fire. 

Up the hill the horses plunged, halted on the 
crest, and, within full sight of both armies, formed 
for the desperate charge. 

The first battery saw them, and wheeled to 
confront the danger. The infantry, supporting 
the artillery, saw them and opened fire, emptying 
a dozen saddles in a few seconds. 

“ Forward ; trot !” rang out the bugle ; and 
Paul Rosser, sword in hand, rode at the head 
of his men. 

Two hundred yards of open field, and a battery 
and a brigade to face. 

No time to think of danger now. 

With the left hand firmly holding the bridle 
rein and the right grasping the gleaming sabre, 
the bronzed troopers awaited the next order. 

It soon came : 

“ Battalion ! Charge !” 


o8 


Shiloh . 


“ Charge !” “ Charge !” “ Charge !” rang 

down the line. 

The horses sprang forward. Great gaps were 
cut in their ranks, but the man who was the 
mark for all, still kept unharmed in the advance. 

On, on and over the blazing guns they rode, 
and like flaming flails the sabres rose and fell. 

“ Hurrah !” burst out from ten thousand 
throats. “ Hurrah ! They have taken the bat- 
tery r 

“ Forward at double-quick by brigades !” was 
Buell’s next order. 

Forward moved the army of the Cumberland. 

When they came to the batteries, about which 
the thinned horsemen were grouped, they saw 
the captain stretched like one dead on the 
ground. Sam Martin knelt beside him, and had 
torn open his clothes, and the red splash on the 
white breast told where the fatal bullet had 
entered. 


Claras Mission. 


109 


CHAPTER IX. 

CLARA’S MISSION. 

Clara Leroy told the whole truth when she 
once said : 

“ Oh, this war, the bullet that cuts down the 
soldier on the battle-field does not stop there, but 
speeds on till it finds its last resting-place in a 
woman’s heart.” 

The battle of Shiloh as it is now called from the 
little log church in the midst of the field, was at 
first known throughout the South as “ the battle 
of Pittsburg Landing.” 

The daily papers from Cincinnati had now 
become an absolute necessity to Mrs. Rosser. 
The stories of the war, from both sides, had a 
fascination for her that threatened to become 
morbid. 

She had learned that the newspaper accounts 
were but rarely accurate, and that even the 
reports from headquarters were framed so as to 
keep the people of the North from desoonding, 


I IO 


Claras Mission. 


but she had come to know that the lists of the 
killed and wounded, in the Union Army at least, 
were invariably accurate. 

The papers of Tuesday, April 9, 1862, brought 
long accounts of “ the bloody two-days battle,” 
and of “ the great victory ” at Pittsburg Landing, 
Tennessee. 

The details of the* awful struggle,and praise or 
blame of commanding generals had no interest 
for her. She adjusted her glasses nervously, and 
the paper fluttered in her hands, as she searched 
for the list of “ Killed and Wounded.” 

“ Not among the killed, thank God !” 

Clara Leroy heard her foster-mother whisper- 
ing these words, but the next instant, a cry of 
agony was heard, and Clara turned to see Mrs. 
Rosser falling back in her chair like one dead. 

“What is it, mother? Speak, speak!” cried 
Clara, herself so frozen with horror that she 
could not move. 

Headed by Aunt Marfa,' the house servants 
came running in. They lifted up the unconscious 
woman and bore her to a room, and Clara raised 
a window and shouted to one of the men to saddle 
the best horse in the stable and hurry for a doc- 


Clara s Alls si on. 


1 1 1 


tor at once, then she turned to the bed and chafed 
the cold hands, till her foster-mother showed 
signs of returning consciousness. 

Looking about her and realizing her situation, 
Mrs. Rosser motioned to Clara to come nearer, 
and then whispered : 

“ Look at the paper — look at the paper, my 

child r 

Clara went into the sitting-room where the 
papers lay on the floor ; she stooped to pick one 
up, but drew back in alarm, as if she had seen a 
serpent under the folds. 

She knew that they contained awful news. 
Was it from the Southern or Union Army ? Did 
they tell of death to Paul or to Harry ? 

At that moment only the sisterly love asserted 
itself. 

By sheer force of will, she nerved herself to the 
task which she knew must be faced sooner or 
later. 

With the paper in her hands, she dropped into 
a chair and turned to the light, for the lines 
swam and were foggy before her eyes, as if 
middle-age had come, and her sight were failing. 

At length she managed to distinguish the 


I 12 


Claras Mission. 


words, and she glanced hurriedly down and 
over the many columns describing the battle. 
“ Officers killed.” She read the list, and, oh, joy ! 
his name was not there. 

A paragraph below this, and her eyes fell upon 
the head-line, “ Mortally wounded.” 

She read aloud what followed, as if she were 
summoning the evidence of all her senses to the 
proof. 

. “ Among the mortally wounded was the gal- 
lant young Kentuckian, Captain Paul Rosser, of 
the Independent Troop. He was shot clear 
through the right breast, in a charge on one of 
our captured batteries, on the afternoon of the 
last day. The guns were all too dearly pur- 
chased by the loss of this accomplished gentle- 
man. He now lies unconscious in a hospital at 
Pittsburg Landing, and the doctors do not think 
he can live through the night.” 

Was this a dream ? Since the boys had gone, 
Clara’s sleep had often been broken by frightful 
visions of battle-fields, in which she saw one or 
the other lying stark and still, with his glazed 
eyes upturned to the stars. 


Claras Mission . 


She forced the giddiness back. For her own 
sake, for Mrs. Rosser’s sake, she must be strong 
now. 

She read the announcement over again, this 
time not aloud. 

The excitement had passed away, and a full 
realization of the situation came to heart and 
steadied her, as the wreck-driven bark is 
steadied, for the time, when it plunges between 
the rocks that are to prove its ruin. 

She folded up the paper, and went back to the 
stricken mother’s room. 

The curtains were drawn, and the servants 
were sobbing, while the poor woman on the bed, 
with her hands pressed to her breast, as if to still 
its awful agony, moaned : 

“ My boy ! my darling ! Paul, my first-born, 
is dead ! — dead !” 

Clara came over, and doubting the words of 
comfort that came to her lips, she threw her 
arms about her foster-mother, and, kissing her, 
whispered : 

“ Do not despair. The papers do not say he is 
dead ; only desperately wounded. He needs 
care now, and I — I shall go to him.” 


Claras Mission . 


1 14 

“ Do not leave me, Clara ! Do not leave me !” 
cried the distracted mother. “ You are all that 
is left.” 

If they could have wept at that time, it might 
have eased their hearts ; the grief that can find 
expression in tears is already half assuaged. 

The doctor came, and found Mrs. Rosser suf- 
fering from the shock and great nervous prostra- 
tion. He gave her a sedative, and said that it 
was all-important that Mrs. Rosser should be 
kept very quiet, and that the cause of her pros- 
tration should be referred to as little as possible. 

Before Doctor Nicols, who was a friend and 
neighbor, left the place, Clara sent one of the 
servants for Dora Burns, and that energetic 
young lady soon put in an appearance. 

She had read the papers before coming, and so 
knew of the last blow that had fallen on Mrs. 
Rosser’s heart and home. 

“ Dora,” Clara began, after she had drawn her 
friend to one side, will you help me?” 

“ In any way that lies in my power,” was the 
reply, accompanied by an assuring kiss. 

“ I cannot think Paul is dead,” Clara con- 
tinued. “ If I felt that way, it seems to me that 


Clara s Mission. 


”5 

I must follow him. But he is alone, away among 
the camps of death on the Tennessee.” 

Dora assured her that the wounded were well 
taken care of, and that Paul would not need for 
attention in the Union lines. 

“ Where there are thousands, tens of thous- 
ands of men suffering, it is impossible that the 
doctors and nurses could give special attention 
to one. Dora!” 

“ Yes, dear Clara.” 

“ I am going to Paul.” 

“Going* down to the battle-field?” exclaimed 
Dora. 

■“ Yes.” 

“ When ?” 

“ At once — to-day.” 

“ And your mother ?” 

“ That is why I have sent for you, Dora.” 

“ And l am ready.” 

“Will you take my place? Will you come 
here every day to talk to her and comfort her, 
for your heart has ever been hopeful, till I come 
back?” 

“ Yes ; that, or anything else. But wait for a 
day or two, Clara ; take time to think.” 


Claras Mission. 


1 16 

“ No, no. If I waited to think, I feel that my 
heart must break. I go to save myself as well 
as him,” said Clara, rising, and beginningto pace 
the room. 

“ And you mean to go alone ?” asked Dora. 

“Yes.” 

“ And you think you can make your way there 
without a guide ?” 

“ God will guide me.” 

“ And you have ready money ?” 

“ I can get all I want in Lexington, if I reach 
there before business closes this afternoon. And 
now, can I go, feeling sure that you or your 
mother will come here every day while I am 
away ?” 

“You can, Clara. And yet I shudder to think 
of vour going alone, unprotected.” 

“Trust me ; every step that brings me nearer 
to him will add to my strength. When he is 
able to be moved, I shall bring him home. 
Every day 1 shall write mother and you. Oh, 
now that you are going to help me, I have no 
fear, for a woman’s devotion stands her in the 
place of what men call courage.” 

Dora saw that her friend was intensely in 


Claras Mission. 


1 7 


earnest, and feeling that she would herself do 
the same, under similar circumstances, she at 
once started in to help Clara prepare for her 
journey. 

“ Mauss Paul’s dyin’, an’ Miss Clara, she’s 
gwine away.” 

These words rang through the cabins and 
went out to the hands working in the fields, who 
at once dropped plow and hoe and hurried over 
to the house to learn the truth for themselves. 

Uncle Eph was so upset that he could not put 
the horses to the carriage without assistance ; 
and Aunt Marfa was convinced that “ ef Mauss 
Paul was dead, Virgy was dead, too;” for in her 
loyal heart she could not imagine his surviving 
his young master. 

Aunt Marfa also felt very sure that the world 
was fast nearing an end, and that the many 
graves now being filled must soon give up their 
dead. 

Clara, with Dora’s aid, packed a little trunk, 
and sent it out to the carriage. This done, she 
went into Mrs. Rosser’s room, and finding her 
with her lips set and her eyes closed, she bent 


Claras Mission . 


1 18 

k_ 

forward, kissed her, and then stole out on tip- 
toe. 

All the preparations were made quickly and 
quietly. Clara tried to calm the servants by tell- 
ing them that she would soon be back with 
Master Paul, and then, after folding Dora in her 
arms, without a word, she entered the carriage, 
and was driven off by Uncle Eph. 

At Nicholasville, Clara sent the carriage back, 
and as she had to wait for nearly an hour for the 
return of the train to Lexington, she was nerv- 
ously pacing the platform when she found her- 
self confronted by George Netly. 

Netly had taken his father’s advice, and, for 
the present at least, had given up all thought of 
risking his precious life in defense of the cause 
which he was still loud-voiced in asserting was 
very dear to his heart. 

Of late he had not visited Clara very often, but 
when he did call he showed a disposition not to^ 
be discouraged, and a patience which, his father 
assured him, must result in success, if he only 
kept at it. Old Netly was firmly convinced that 
a woman’s heart was like a fortified city, and 


Claras Mission. 


”9 

must inevitably surrender to the man who cofilcl 
calmly sit down and starve it into a surrender. 

“Very sorry to hear that Paul’s mortally 
wounded,” said George Netly, lifting his hat and 
bowing to Clara, who was forced to come to a 
stop. 

“ Yes,” was the only reply she could make. 

“ Mrs. Rosser must feel pretty bad.” 

Clara made no reply, but with downcast head 
stepped to one side and continued her walk along 
the platform. 

“If there’s anything I could do — ” said George 
Netly, turning and keeping by her side. 

“Thanks; there is nothing.” 

“ Going to make any attempt to get home the 
— the — ” he was going to say “ the body,” but 
substituted, “to bring him home?” 

“ Yes,” she said, stopping and looking up into 
his face. “ I am going to him now, and I shall 
bring him home.” 

“You, Miss Clara!” exclaimed Netly. 

“Yes, I.” 

“ Alone?” 

“ Why not alone ?” 


I 20 


Claras Mission. 


“ Think of the danger. A beautiful young 
lady going down to the battle-fields alone ?” 

“ I am not afraid,” she said. 

“ But your friends must fear for you. If I 
could be of service as an escort I should feel it a 
privilege, an honor, to act as your servant, and 
to — ” 

“ Thanks. I prefer to go alone. To be in 
the company of such a strong Southern man as 
yourself might endanger my safety in the Union 
lines,” she said, with a sarcasm that pricked him, 
tough though his hide was. 

George Netly persisted in talking to her till 
the train came. He saw her on the cars to Lex- 
ington, and after the train had left, he sent a let- 
ter to his father, explaining why he might be 
gone for some time, and then mounted his horse 
and started at a gallop in the direction Clara had 
taken. 

At this time, Howard Raymond, with the rank 
of a lieutenant, was connected with the provost- 
marshal’s office in Lexington, and on her arrival 
there, Clara went to get a military pass and 
instructions as to her route. 

Raymond, though not a visitor at Mrs. Ros- 


Claras Mission . 


I 2 I 


ser’s, knew Clara very well, and he did not need 
to be told why she had come. 

He tried to dissuade her by pointing out the 
danger and trials to which she must be subjected, 
and assuring her that the body could be recov- 
ered afterward, if, as he feared, Captain Rosser 
was dead. 

But Clara was not to be swayed from her pur- 
pose. 

“ I am going to Shiloh,” she said, with unmis- 
takable resolution. “ Help me, and I shall not 
forget it.” 

Raymond did help her ; even going so far as 
to see her to the train for Louisville. 

As he was about to leave her he said : 

“ Your mother must be lonely and in torture 
while you are away.” 

“ Dora Burns will stay with her till 1 come 
back,” was Clara’s reply. 

Raymond left her, resolved to take advantage 
of Dora’s present situation ; and Clara entered 
the car to find, to her inexpressible amazement, 
George Netly bowing her to a seat. 


122 


John Morgan. 


CHAPTER X. 

JOHN MORGAN AND HIS MEN. 

Clara did not attempt to hide her annoyance 
at George Netly’s presence, and he had tact 
enough not to force himself immediately upon 
her. 

He took a seat directly behind her, and it was 
not till the train reached Frankfort that he made 
any effort to get up a conversation with her. 

Leaning forward, he said, nervously : 

“ Pardon me, Miss Clara, but I do not want to 
seem like an intruder.” 

She looked at him, but made no reply. 

“ Grant me one privilege, ” he said, after a 
painful pause. 

“ What is it?” she asked. 

“ I do not want to seem as your traveling com- 
panion. If my presence is at all annoying, I 
shall keep in the back-ground, for I know that 
when people are in great trouble they do not 
want to be annoyed or talked to. Rut if you 


John Morgan . 


I2 3 


will let me keep near you, and only tender my 
services when you need them greatly, I shall feel 
you are giving me a great privilege. I could 
not remain quietly at home and think of you tak- 
ing this awful trip alone. And so I wrote to 
father that I would follow you and watch you, 
and, if need be, lay down my life for 'your 
safety,” said George Netly, with more earnest- 
ness than he had ever shown before. 

He thought himself that there was a good 
deal of eloquence in this little speech ; nor did 
he change his mind or feel discouraged when 
Clara replied : 

“ You are your own master, Mr. Netly ; and I 
have neither the right nor the disposition to say 
where you shall or shall not go. Only this, you 
must not make it appear that you are my escort 
for, as I told you before, I prefer to make this 
journey alone.” 

“ And, practically, you will be making it alone. 
Trust me to respect your wishes in this, as in 
everything else,” said George Netly; and he 
settled back in his seat, and proceeded to read 
the papers, in the hope that he might chance 


John Morgan . 


1 24 

upon some paragraph that would confirm the 
death of Paul Rosser. 

It was after dark when the train reached 
Louisville. The station was crowded with sol- 
diers, and in the distant streets could be heard 
the sound of military bands and the regular 
tramp, tramp, tramp of marching men. 

In the confused tide whirling back and forth, 
Clara felt herself lost, and when she tried to 
speak to a porter, her voice was drowned in the 
confusion of noises distracting the air. 

Overcome for the moment with a sense of her 
own insignificance and helplessness, Clara looked 
about her, and it was with something like 
a sense of relief that she saw Netly standing 
humbly near by and watching her. 

He saw the appealing look in her eyes, and 
hurried to her side. 

“You cannot leave before morning,” he said. 
“ Let me get a carriage and have you and your 
trunk taken to a hotel. I will see you safely 
there, and then learn if there is any later news 
from Paul, or if any can be had. I can also see 
to your pass and your tickets, if the authorities 
agree to let you go through to-morrow.” 


125 


John Morgan. 


She had not thought of these details — indeed, 
she had no thought for anything but the brave 
youth dying away on the banks of the Ten- 
nessee. 

“ I wish to go to the Galt House,” she said. 

At first she thought she would go to the house 
of one of her many friends in the city, but uncer- 
tain as to their leanings in the contest that had 
made bitter enemies of so many dear friends, she 
decided to keep away from them for the present. 

Netly asked for her check, bowed as he took 
it, and then, after escorting her to a seat in the 
waiting-room, he started off to find a cab. 

After a few minutes he came back, and said, 
with great deference : 

“ Miss Leroy, the cab, with your trunk, is 
waiting outside.” 

She arose and went on by his side, but, as if in 
obedience to her wishes, he made no attempt to 
offer her his arm. 

He saw her into the carriage and closed the 
door. 

She thought he was going to leave her, and 
much as she disliked the man, it was with some- 


26 


John Morgan . 


thing of a relief that she saw him mounting the 
box beside the driver. 

The big hotel was crowded, but George Netly 
succeeded in getting the only vacant room for 
Clara, and, to save her coming down to the 
crowded dining-room, he had her supper sent 
up. 

Securing the pass obtained from Howard Ray- 
mond, he started off to have the permit extended 
to visit Pittsburg Landing, and to secure tickets 
for himself and Clara to that point. 

At the provost-marshal’s office he told his 
object at once, and was informed that he could 
get a pass for the young lady, but not for himself 
unless he took the oath of allegiance. 

“ But,” protested Netly, “ I am all right. I 
am in favor of the Union.” 

“Very well,” said the officer. “You will be 
committing no perjury by taking the oath.” 

George Netly did not hesitate for a moment, 
but said : ' 

“ I am r ready to do anything the law re- 
quires.” 

And so he secured a pass to go to and return 


127 


John Morgan. 

from Pittsburg Landing, as the escort of Miss 
Clara Leroy. 

Too much delighted with his success to give a 
thought to the infamy of his conduct, George 
Netly found a place to sleep for the night, and 
early in the morning he was in attendance on 
Clara again. 

After she had written to Mrs. Rosser and Dora 
and partaken of a light breakfast, she entered the 
cab, and again her escort mounted the box 
beside the driver. 

The Louisville and Nashville depot was 
crowded with soldiers. Thousands of strong 
men, in brand new uniforms, going to the front ; 
hundreds of wounded men with ragged dress 
and haggard faces going home to recover or to 
die. 

The cars were crowded, but Clara — thanks to 
the devoted Mr. Netly — got a seat beside a tall, 
handsome young man, whose yellow shoulder- 
straps, with their gold leaves, told he was a 
major of cavalry. 

Clara was the only one of her sex on the train, 
which rolled out that morning with a crowd of 
soldiers, civil attaches and doctors, on board. 


128 


John Morgan. 


After Netly had gone into the smoking-car, in 
the hope of finding a seat, the young major, who 
proved to be an exceedingly refined and intelli- 
gent gentleman, ventured to say to the young 
lady sitting beside him : 

“You must be very brave, miss, to venture 
down this way at this time.” 

“ It is not a question of bravery,” she said, 
“ but of duty.” 

At this the major’s eyes lit up with pleasure, 
and he said, with evident delight : 

“ Duty ! Yes, that’s it. If it were not for the 
sense of duty there are but few of us who would 
be found going in this direction.” 

“Were you at Shiloh?” Clara ventured to 
ask. 

“ No. I was wounded at Fort Donelson, and 
am now returning to my regiment. I am from 
Michigan. Yesterday morning 1 kissed my wife 
and baby good-bye in Detroit. You may be 
sure the duty was very stern that tore me awav 
from them,” and the sigh that followed did 
credit to the gallant major’s heart. 

The ordinary young lady would have lost 
interest in the handsome soldier on learning he 


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iftlfMiliWWitiMrtilWiliiV iMiWift'ifWlJ I 








John Morgan. 


1 29 


was married and had a baby, but this informa- 
tion made Clara feel that she could be franker 
with the man, so she told why she had left home 
and whither she was going. 

“ And you are the gallant Rossers sister?” 
said the major, looking at her with mingled pity 
and surprise. 

“ His sister by adoption,” said Clara, with 
downcast eyes. 

“ Ah, the wives, sisters, mothers and sweet- 
hearts, on both sides, are the real sufferers in 
this war,” said the major. 

“ What do you know of my brother?” asked 
Clara, after a pause. 

“ At headquarters in Louisville this morning, 
I saw a dispatch which stated that Captain Ros- 
ser, thanks to his splendid constitution, was 
still alive, though a fever had set in and he was 
unconscious last night.” 

“ Oh, thank Heaven ! He still lives !” cried 
Clara, fervently, clasping her little hands. 

“ It is surprising the wounds that strong, 
healthy young men may survive,” said the major ; 
and then he went on to tell her of some wonder- 
ful cases that had come under his own observa- 


- 

130 John Morgan . 

tion, where men, in the face of all the teachings 
of surgery and the opinions of the doctors, per- 
sisted in getting well. 

Clearly his object was to encourage Clara, and 
he was rewarded for his effort by the light in 
her eyes and the color that came back to her 
pale cheeks. 

“ I am going to join the army of the Cumber- 
land,” he said ; “ and if, on the way, or after we 
have reached Pittsburg Landing, I can be of any 
service to you or to your escort, I shall deem it 
an honor,” said the major. 

Clara thanked him for the promised services, 
little dreaming that events were then shaping 
themselves which would prevent his being able 
to carry them out. 

Late in the afternoon, and when nearing the 
Tennessee line, the train came to a sudden stop. 

“ I wonder what’s up here ?” said the major, 
looking out of the windows on either side, and 
seeing only a barren, undulating country, cov- 
ered by a dense undergrowth. 

“Do you think there is danger ?” she asked, 
as the major stood up and began fastening on his 
sword. 


John Morgan. 


131 


“ I hope not.” 

He turned away, pale and resolute, for the 
men were seizing their arms on every hand and 
rushing out of the cars. 

Two shots in quick succession to the front ; 
then a volley and a shrill cheer. 

The men were all out of the cars, and Clara 
was alone. 

For some seconds, she had to gasp for breath ; 
her heart seemed to have stopped its beating, 
but it was only to leap up with a bound and to 
beat so fast as to make her tremble. 

The windows were up, for the day was warm. 
The firing increased, coming nearer and nearer, 
and the whiz of the bullets flying past sounded 
like the flight of invisible bees. As she looked 
out, she saw a man in blue tottering near by, 
with the blood pouring from a wound in his 
throat, and, when not ten feet away, he fell for- 
ward on his face, dead. 

Clara’s first thought was to run out and help 
the man, and she had risen to her feet, when 
George Netly, with protruding eyes and ashy 
lips, came tottering in, and, on seeing her, he 
cried out : 


3 2 


John Morgan . 


“ We are attacked, and a great battle is going 
on !” 

“ Who has attacked us ?” asked Clara. 

I don’t .know. I took a look out, and I saw a 
lot of horses up on the hill right in front ; so I 
think they are Southern cavalry. And if you 
were not in danger, I’d be glad to see them win," 
said George Netly, his trembling limbs showing 
that the sound of the conflict had no inspiring 
influence on him. 

The shouting and the firing came nearer and 
nearer, and through the window Clara could see 
that the men in blue wereTalling back, marking 
the line of their hurried retreat with their dead 
and wounded. 

Unable to resist the impulse, for which she 
was never afterward able to account, Clara ran 
back to the rear platform, and, seizing the iron 
rails in either hand, she leaned out and looked 
ahead. 

“Come back! Come back!’’ implored the 
now thoroughly alarmed Netly. “ Come back, 
or you will be killed !’’ 

Clara did not hear him. Her heart was in her 
eyes. 


133 




John Morgan . 


Without a moment’s cessation, the firing went 
on, the mass of men in blue melting away per- 
ceptibly, and the ranks of the men in brown and 
gray increasing, as they swarmed up the track in 
front, or, firing as they came, poured down from 
the hills to the right and the left. 

Mingled with the rattle of arms, cheers, yells, 
oaths and taunts of defiance came to her ears, 
and, high above all, she heard the shouts of : 

“ Surrender ! Surrender ! Surrender !” 

As she watched, she saw the young major wav- 
ing his sword and bravely trying to rally his 
comrades, while step by step, with his face to 
the foe, he fell back. 

He came so close that she could see his side- 
face and catch the heroic glint of his handsome 
blue eyes. 

At that moment she forgot all about her sym- 
pathy for the South. She was thinking of the 
young wife and the baby whom the major had 
left in Michigan. 

As she looked, the major’s hat fell off ; the 
sword dropped from his grasp ; he reeled for an 
instant, as if trying to balance himself, and then 


134 


John Morgan . 




pitched forward on his face, and the red spot on 
the white temple told that his brain was pierced. 

On the instant the firing ceased. The men in 
blue, seeing the fall of their leader and the 
strength of the foe, threw down their arms as a 
sign of surrender, and at that moment a bugle on 
the hill-side sounded the order to “ cease firing.” 

If Clara Leroy saw or heard these changes, 
she did not heed them. The impulse to help the 
fallen major sent her to his side. 

She raised his head and called to him, but he 
made no reply. She laid her hand on the high 
forehead, and it was damp and cold. 

The young wife in Michigan was a widow and 
her baby an orphan. 

“ I am sorry for this, madame,” said a deep 
voice near Clara. 

She looked up, and saw a tall, handsome man 
of five-and-thirty, with cold blue eyes and a 
tawny mustache, looking down on her with pity. 
She had seen him before in Lexington. He was 
Colonel John Morgan, the famous partisan 
leader. 






A Surprise. 


135 


CHAPTER XI. 

A SURPRISE, AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT. 

“ I am sorry, madam,” said Colonel Morgan, 
removing his hat and displaying a well-shaped 
head, covered with crisp yellow hair ; “ but this 
is the fate of war.” 

Clara rose, and pressing her hands to her eyes, 
as if to shut out the sight of the dead and the 
wounded, who were now being carried to a spot 
near by, she moaned : 

“ His wife — his poor wife and his child !” 

“ Then you are not his wife ?” said the Confed- 
erate, with a gasp of relief. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ His sister, then ?” 

“ No.” 

“ His friend ?” 

“Yes; I will say his friend, though I never 
saw the gentleman till we met on the cars this 
morning.” 

“ I infer from that that you favor the Union.” 


J 3 6 


A Surprise. 


“ My sympathies have been with the South ; 
but my friends are in both armies. I want peace, 
not victory for either side,” said Clara, with 
feeling. 

“ Ah, my young friend, peace cannot come 
without victory to one side; and victory cannot 
come without death in the ranks of both,” said 
Morgan, shaking his head sadly. After a pause, 
he bowed again, and scanning Clara’s half-averted 
face with his keen eyes, and the expression of a 
man trying to recall something to his memory, 
he asked : 

“ Have I not seen you before ?” 

“ That is possible,” she said, “ for I have seen 
you.” 

“ Where, may I ask ?” 

“ In Lexington, drilling your men at the fair- 
grounds.” 

“ Then you are a Kentuckian?” 

“ I am proud to say I am.” 

“ And you are now on your way through the 
lines to friends in the South, is that it ?” 

“ No, sir; 1 am now on my way to the battle- 
field of Shiloh, to care for one who lies wounded 
there, and who is very dear to me,” said Clara. 


A Surprise . 


137 

“ Pardon me, may I ask your name?” 

“ Miss Clara Leroy.” 

“ Of Jessamine County ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ The adopted daughter of the Widow Rosser?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And the sister of Paul and Harry ?” 

“ I am proud to bear that name.” 

“ Why !” exclaimed the Confederate, “ this is 
surprising. Captain Harry Rosser is now here 
with my command.” 

On hearing this, Clara’s bearing changed, and 
half-raising her hands, she cried out : 

“ Harry here ! Oh, sir, take me to him !” and 
she looked eagerly about her, as if expecting to 
see him. 

She was not disappointed. From the opposite 
side of the railroad track, there suddenly appeared 
a company of horsemen with Harry Rosser at 
their head. 

“ Here comes your brother,” said Morgan. 

But at the same instant, Harry caught sight of 
Clara, and, with a cry of surprise, he came on at 
a gallop, threw the horse back on his haunches 


■38 


A Surprise. 


when near her, and, flinging himself from the 
saddle, he caught her in his arms. 

Colonel Morgan raised his hat and walked 
away, but neither Harry nor Clara saw him, for 
there were tears in their eyes. 

“ Why, Clara, you here ! What does this 
mean ?” asked Harry, as he led her away from 
the scene of conflict, and made her sit down on a 
rock out of sight, and at the other side of the 
train. 

She did not speak until sure that they could 
not be overheard, and then she said : 

“ I am going to Paul !” 

“To Paul!” he exclaimed, and his face 
blanched. “ What of Paul?” 

For reply, Clara took the newspaper from her 
cloak pocket, and pointed to the heading, “ Mor- 
tally wounded.” 

The paper trembled in Harry’s hands, and 
after he had finished the reading, he sat for some 
time in silence, with his eyes on the ground. 

“ And mother?” he said at length. 

Clara told him of his mother, and that Dora 
Burns was taking care of her. 

“ Clara, this all seems like a nightmare. A 


A Surprise. 


139 


curse on the politicians, North and South, who 
brought on this war !” 

“ But, Harry.” 

“ Yes, Clara.” 

“ I must go to Paul.” 

“ I shall see that you get there.” 

“ But look, Harry ; see what your comrades 
are doing.” 

“ What ?” he asked, with a vague look about 
him. 

“ They are firing the train.” 

It was as Clara said. Everything in the bag- 
gage and mail cars had been taken out, and 
Morgan’s men were firing the cars ; a party of 
lank fellows, in butternut suits and with long 
rifles at their backs, being particularly active in 
this work. 

Neither Sam Herd nor his brother Lishe 
were there, but all unknown to Harry Rosser 
and his superior officer, those men belonged to 
the organized band of mountain guerrillas ; and 
though they had fought bravely that day, and 
were ready to fight again, plunder was their 
object, wherever it could be found. 

Clara told Harry about George Netly, and 


140 


A Surprise. 


this information had a stirring effect on the 
young man. 

“ George Netly,” he said, as he rose from his 
seat beside Clara, “ has long wanted a chance to 
fight on the side of the South ; he will never 
have a better opportunity. He was the most 
loud-voiced ‘ Southern Rights’ in the county, as 
Colonel Morgan knows. We’ll attend to his 
case.” 

“ But you will not harm him, Harry?” said 
Clara, laying her hand on his arm. 

“ Harm him ! No, I shall leave that for the 
Yankees ; but I shall see that he has a chance 
to fight.” 

At this juncture, Ovy, who had been searching 
for his master, came up, and on seeing Clara, he 
threw up his hands and cried out: 

“ Bress de Lor’, Miss Clara, is dat you ?” 

Clara shook hands with Ovy, and at once found 
herself overwhelmed with questions about 
“ mammy an’ dad ” and all the folks, white and 
black, at home on the old plantation. 

“ While you are talking to Ovy, I shall see 
about your trunk, and find Netly,” said Harry, 
starting off. 


A Surprise , 


J 4i 


Clara stopped him and told him about the dead 
major, and his wife and baby in Michigan. 

“ God pity her,” said Harry, “ I shall see that 
the poor fellow is decently buried and his grave 
marked, and I shall save his effects that they may 
be sent to his wife.” 

“ And give me his sword, Harry, for he did not 
disgrace it ; and, when I can, I shall send it to 
Michigan, and tell her all. Poor womap, she will 
not need to be assured that the man she loved 
was a soldier and a gentleman.” 

Promising that this should be attended to, 
Harry crossed over the track, and behind the 
now blazing cars, he found that the dead were 
being buried in shallow pits, and the wounded of 
both sides attended to by doctors in blue and in 
gray. 

Harry took the major’s watch and all his papers 
from his pockets ; among the latter was the pho- 
tograph of a beautiful young woman, holding in 
her arms a pretty baby, and under it was written, 
in a woman’s hand, “ Papa’s Pets.” 

After directing that the major should be 
buried separately and the grave marked for 
further identification, he started to find Colonel 


142 


A Surprise. 


Morgan, in order to consult with him as to the 
best means of forwarding Clara on her mission. 

Harry had not gone far through the crowds of 
men who were now cooking supper for them- 
selves and their dejected prisoners, when he 
heard his name called, and on turning around 
he found himself face to face with George Netly. 

“ Have you seen Miss Clara?” was Netly ’s 
salutation, after he had shaken Harry’s hand, as 
if he would wring it off. 

“ I have,” was the reply. 

“ And she told you how we came to be here ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What chance is there of our getting off ? You 
know she is very anxious to get to Paul !” said 
Netly, looking as if he were also eager to be off 
on the same mission. 

“ Why, George, surely you are not going to 
leave us, now that you are here?” said Harry. 

“ Why should I stay ?” gasped Netly. 

“ To fight.” 

“ To fight?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What for ?” 

“ What am I fighting for, George? 


A Surprise . 


T 43 

“ For the South, I reckon.” 

“You reckon right. Has your heart changed ?” 

“ Not in the least, Harry.” 

“ Then you are still with us ?” 

In soul, yes.” 

“Well, we want you with us in body. Nearly 
all the Confederates you see about us are Ken- 
tuckians ; many of them, as you may have found 
out, are friends and neighbors. You can have no 
excuse for leaving us. I shall see the colonel — ” 

“ But, Clara,” protested Netly. 

“ No harm can come to her, if it is in my power 
to avert it.” 

“ But she is going to Paul.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ To Shiloh, within the Union lines.” 

“ I know it, George ; and I shall see her safely 
there.” 

“ You, Harry?” gasped Netly. 

“Yes, I.” 

“ But the danger.” 

“ Danger !” echoed Harry, with a bitter smile. 
“ Do you think we can carry on our work with- 
out danger. Look back there at the graves they 
are covering. Look under those trees at the 


1 44 


A Surprise. 


wounded the doctors are cutting up. Why, man, 
there is no place, but your own home, in all the 
South where there is not danger ; and even there 
it will be sure to come. Every man in Kentucky 
able to ride a horse or shoot a rifle must take 
sides, must fight. You are with your friends, 
and we cannot let you leave us.” 

“ But my father and mother.” 

“ I will tell you how to get word to them ; and 
if they think now as they did six months ago, 
they will rejoice to learn that you are battling ; 
like a man for a good cause,” said Harry, turn- \ 
ing and walking over to where Colonel Morgan 
and a number of officers were talking with a 
scout who had just come in, and whose dripping 
horse told of hard riding. 

“They will be down on us in less than an 
hour, if you stay here,” the scout was saying to 
Morgan. 

“ All cavalry, you say ?” said Morgan, beating 
one of his gauntlets against the other. 

“ All well mounted, Colonel ; and, from the 
way they ride, they are not new to the business,” 
said the scout. 

“ About how many do you think there are?” 


A Surprise . 


T 45 

“ Five thousand, at least.” 

“Well, as we have not so many hundreds, it 
will be prudent to light out.” 

The colonel turned to one of his officers, gave 
an order to blow up the locomotive, and then, 
with the energy that characterized all his move- 
ments, he made preparations for the retreat. 

He paroled the prisoners, detailed a doctor to 
remain back in charge of his own wounded, then 
putting the plunder taken from the train into a 
number of light wagons and ambulances he had 
brought with him, he ordered his men to march. 

These preparations were made with surpris- 
ing quickness. 

A strong guard was thrown out in the direc- 
tion from which the Union cavalry were 
expected, and then Morgan leaped on a horse 
that had been held near by, by a colored man. 

“ Colonel Morgan,” said Harry, “ it will not do 
to leave my sister here to-night.” 

With an oath, the colonel sprang from his 
horse, and said : 

“ Pardon me, Rosser ; I forgot the young lady. 
But what have you thought of doing?” 


146 


A Surprise. 


“ I must keep her near me till I can send her 
safely into the enemy’s lines.” 

“ That’s right, Captain.” 

“ And we are now bound for Lebanon ?” 

“Yes, Captain,” said Morgan, with a smile, “if 
the enemy will let us depart in peace. But take 
my ambulance ; it is at the lady’s disposal ; and 
send it well to the front, that she may not be 
shocked again if we have to fight. Do as you 
please ; only do it at once.” And Morgan again 
vaulted into the saddle. 

“ And Netly, Colonel?” 

“ I have ordered Netly to be mustered in. We 
cannot have too many good men,” said Morgan, 
as he wheeled his horse and galloped away. 

Harry got the ambulance, put Clara’s trunk in 
the back, fixed a seat for her, told Ovy to hitch 
his horse behind and sit with the driver, and 
then rode beside the vehicle to the top of a hill 
to the south. 

Here a halt was called for a few minutes. It 
was now night, and, looking back into the dark 
valley, Clara heard the crack of rifles, and she 
knew that horsemen in blue were in pursuit. 


On the Cumberland. 


147 


CHAPTER XII. 

ON THE SHORES OF THE CUMBERLAND. 

“ They are fighting again back there,” said 
Clara, with a shudder, when Harry leaned for- 
ward in his saddle and told her not to be 
alarmed. 

“ Only skirmishing,” he said. 

“ But isn’t skirmishing fighting ?” 

“ Well, yes, Clara ; I suppose it is, in a small 
sort of way. But see ; that was the signal to 
press on with all speed,” said Harry. 

There was no need to point to a rocket that 
went whizzing from the hill-side into the sky, and 
burst at its zenith into red stars. 

“ Where are we going ?” she asked. 

“To Lebanon. Do not fear; I shall be near 
you through the night.” Then Harry called out 
to the driver : 

“ Push on as fast as you can.” 

The long whip cracked above the ears of the 
mules; the driver sent up a yell like an Indian, 


148 


On the Cumberland. 


and Clara was thrown back in her seat by the 
violence with which the animals plunged for- 
ward. 

It was a dark night, and the roads, unlike 
those of the Blue Grass country, were wretched, 
so that the ambulance plunged and jolted as if it 
must soon go to pieces, or have the top swept 
off by the branches of trees under which it was 
rushed. 

On and on, like a ship in a storm they went, 
and whether up-hill or down-hill, did not seem to 
make any difference to the driver. 

Now and then, and between gasps that told he 
was having the breath jolted out of him, Ovy 
would call back to Clara: 

“ Don’t yeh feel skeert — Miss Clary. We’se 
— we’se all right. Dis yar — ain’t noffin. 
Bimeby, w’en dem Yanks stops chasin’ us, we’ll 
take it kinder gentle like.” 

But from the motion of the ambulance, it 
seemed to Clara as if the “ Yanks” never would 
stop chasing them. 

It was near midnight, when, in obedience to a 
shout from the rear, the driver reined in, and 


On the Cumberland. 


149 


the quick panting of the mules told the fearful 
pace at which they had been going. 

“The danger is over,” said Harry, riding up 
and dismounting beside the ambulance. “ Now, 

I shall make you a bed, in which you can try to 
get some sleep during the rest of the night.” 

He drew a lamp from under one of the seats,* 
lit it, and then, aided by Ovy, he made a bed of 
cushions and blankets, and separated it from the 
driver by a curtain that came down from the 
roof. 

The ambulance was a very complete affair, and 
had been built for a Union general, but Morgan 
intercepted and appropriated it on its way to the 
front. 

With the lamp hanging from the roof and all 
the curtains down, it looked to Clara as if she 
were in a bunk on board a rocking river steamer. 

The ambulance started off again, this time 
at a walk; and far to the front and away 
behind, she heard the tramping of horses, the 
clatter of arms and the voices of men, all hoarse 
from shouting. 

She took off her shoes to ease her feet, and lay 
down, but she did not think she could sleep. 


150 On the Cumberland. 

Gradually the noise about her died out, and 
rocked by the swaying ambulance, she became 
indifferent to her surroundings. 

When she awoke, the vehicle was at a stand, 
and all about her was as silent as the grave, 
while the sunbeams coming through the joined 
curtains, told her it was broad daylight. 

She peeped out and saw a lot of horses feed- 
ing, and their riders gathered about camp-fires 
near by. 

The ambulance was halted before a large brick 
building, which she subsequently learned was the 
college of “ the Cumberland Presbyterians/' in 
the town of Lebanon. 

She put on her shoes, and was trying to 
unfasten the curtains at the back, when Harry 
appeared. 

“ Ah,” was his salutation, “ I am glad to see you 
are looking fresher for your rest. Cornell have 
had your trunk sent to a house near by, and the 
lady will be glad to attend to your wants.” 

He helped her out and gave her his arm, and 
as they walked in the direction of the house to 
which he had pointed, she said : 


On the Cumberland. 1 5 1 

“ But I cannot wait here, Harry. You know 
why I left home.” 

“ I have not forgotten that for an instant,” he 
said. “ Indeed, since we reached here, early 
this morning, I have been busy writing letters to 
mother, Paul — and Dora.” 

“ And you have arranged for me to leave ?” 

“ I have.” 

“ How ?” 

“We will send you and the ambulance through 
to Nashville under a flag of truce, as soon as you 
are ready to move ; do not be alarmed, I shall be 
your escort,” said Harry, pressing her arm reas- 
suringly. 

Clara found Mrs. Bell, the lady of the cozy 
house to which she was escorted, kind, pretty 
and more enthusiastic for the South than any 
one she had yet seen. 

Mrs. Bell made Clara at home at once ; called 
her “ a true daughter of the South ;” compli- 
mented her on her brother ; envied her for hav- 
ing been present at a fight and a victory; and 
declared that if it were only “ good form ” for 
women to fight, she would herself raise a com- 
pany at once. 


On the Cumberland. 


1 52 

After breakfast, George Netly, looking very 
much older and sadder than Clara had ever seen 
him, called. 

He had on a gray uniform and equipments 
that had been taken from the dead body of a 
Union soldier the day before. 

Taking Clara to one side, he handed her a let- 
ter, and said : 

“ Don’t you remember telling me that I ought 
to go into the Southern Army ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Netly; I remember that,” she 
replied. 

“ Well,” he groaned, “ I am in it now.” 

“ I am glad you are where your actions and 
convictions will be in harmony,” she said. 

“ 1 don’t care if I die,” he said, with a sup- 
pressed sob, “ if you’ll only think a little more of 
me and give me a chance.” 

“ I certainly shall respect you more for your 
course, Mr. Netly.” 

“ It was helping you that brought me here. 
See father when you go back, and tell him that. 
And, Miss Clara — ” 

“What is it, Mr. Netly?” 

“ If I am killed, remember I loved you with 


On the Cumberland. 


153 

my last breath and, overcome with his emo- 
tions, George Netly shook her hand, and turned 
away. 

About the middle of the forenoon, the ambu- 
lance appeared before Mrs. Bell’s house, accom- 
panied by an unarmed horseman, carrying a 
white flag at the end of a staff. 

Harry was with Clara, and she was ready for 
the journey. 

Mrs. Bell kissed her good-bye, as if she had 
known her for twenty years and might never see 
her again. 

Ovid had the reins, and two saddled horses 
were hitched behind. 

“ I shall ride with you,” said Harry, as he 
helped Clara in and took a seat beside her. 

“ Where to ?” she asked. 

“ To the Federal outposts at Nashville. We 
shall get there early in the evening, for the pike 
in that direction is nearly but not quite as good 
as our roads in central Kentucky,” said Harry, 
whose State pride would assert itself. 

Just as the ambulance was about to start off, 
Colonel Morgan appeared, and standing hat in 
hand, he told Miss Leroy he was sorry for the 


154 


On the Cumberland. 


trials to which he had subjected her ; hoped she 
would reach her destination in safety and find 
her brother better, and then waved her a good- 
bye as the ambulance started off. 

About three o’clock in the afternoon, Harry 
saw, far to the front, the sunlight flashing on 
polished arms, and through his glass he made 
out a body of Union cavalry, evidently an out- 
post, for there was a fire in the woods near by. 

The man carrying the white flag, and who had 
been riding to the rear, at a signal from Harry, 
came to the front and advanced at a walk. 

Harry kissed Clara and said : 

“ I must mount my horse and go ahead to 
meet the enemy.” 

“ And will there be a fight?” she asked, with a 
shudder. 

“ No ; they will meet us like friends. Do* not 
fear.” 

Harry leaped into the saddle, and rode ahead 
with the man carrying the white flag. 

Eagerly Clara watched them, for they had no 
arms. Soon she saw two men in blue, one of 
them carrying a white flag, galloping up the 
road. 


On the Cumberland. 


155 


The two parties came together, and she saw 
by the way they removed their hats that they 
were being very courteous to each other, and so 
lessened the danger of a fight. 

Soon the four men came riding back in a 
group, all talking as if they had ever been the 
best of friends. 

One of the men in blue was an officer, with a 
stout form and a heavy, black beard, and him 
Harry introduced to Clara as “ Captain Daniels.” 

“ Captain Daniels will see you safely through 
to Nashville and on to Pittsburg Landing,” said 
Harry. 

“ I shall deem it an honor,” said Captain Dan- 
iels, bowing and touching his hat. 

“ The ambulance is yours, Clara, and the cap- 
tain’s companion will drive it. God bless you.” 

Ovy had dropped the reins and mounted his 
own horse, and Captain Daniels’ companion 
hitched his horse behind and took the reins. 

With the last word, Harry Rosser waved his 
hand, turned in the direction from which he had 
come, and galloped away. 

From the driver Clara learned that they were 
only five miles from Nashville, and from Captain 


In the Hospital. 


156 

Daniels she learned that Paul Rosser had been 
brought on to that city, and was still alive. 

That night she was in the hospital by his side, 
holding his fevered hands in hers, and listening 
to him calling her name, although he knew her 
not. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

IN THE HOSPITAL. 

Nashville was at this time a vast military camp. 

The houses that were not barracks or officers’ 
headquarters were hospitals, and these hospitals 
were filled not so much by wounded men as by 
those who had contracted disease, or had broken 
down under the strain, mental and physical, that 
is involved in such campaigning. The men who 
die from disease outnumber in every army, 
actively engaged, those who fall on the battle- 
field or succumb to wounds received there. 

With her passes and letters, Clara had no diffi- 
culty, on reaching Nashville, in being recognized 


In the Hospital. 


i5 7 


at army headquarters ; and when her experience 
with John Morgan and his men became known, 
she found herself in the undesirable position of a 
heroine. 

Every officer she met spoke in the highest 
terms of “ the gallant captain,” as they called 
Paul. 

Doctor Threlkeld, the surgeon in charge of the 
hospital where Paul was, was sent for, and he at 
once conducted her to the cot on which the 
unconscious man lay. 

After she had knelt beside him and kissed him, 
and bathed his hot hands and face with her tears, 
she sought out the doctor and asked : 

“ Doctor, tell me the truth. I can stand any- 
thing now.” 

“ It would be folly to say that the captain is 
not dangerously hurt,” said the doctor, guard- 
edly. 

“ But he stood the journey hither ?” 

“Yes; and it has seemed to improve him. The 
fact is, Miss Leroy, the captain is living in the 
face of all our surgical experience and traditions. 
There is not one man in a thousand who would 
have lived an hour after receiving such a wound.” 


158 


In the Hospital. 


“Then there is hope that he may come 
through ?” she said ; and she looked appealingly 
into the doctor’s face, as if imploring him to agree 
with her statement. 

“You know the old saying, Miss Leroy, that 
‘ while there is life there is hope.’ But there is 
one thing I can say to you with absolute cer- 
tainty.” 

“ What is that, Doctor?” she asked, eagerly. 

“ Captain Rosser will not die if human effort 
and skill can save him ; you may be sure of that. 
And now, my young friend, will you be advised 
by me?” 

“ Yes, as if I were your daughter,” she said. 

“ Thanks for the confidence, and I shall try to 
deserve it. But this is what I was going to say : 
You are yourself suffering from excitement, and 
your strength has been tested and taxed more 
severely than you imagine — ” 

“ Oh !” she interrupted, “ now that I have found 
him, I feel very well. I have never been sick, 
except at heart.” 

“ And that is the sickness that kills,” said the 
doctor, shaking his head solemnly ; then adding: 
“ You must not attempt to sit up and do all the 


In the Hospital . 


159 


nursing yourself ; we have plenty of men who are 
trained to such work, and gentle women who 
have come down from happy homes to assist us. 
Come with me, and 1 shall introduce you to some 
of these ladies, who will see that you are provided 
with quarters and everything else that you may 
want and they can give, so long as you are with 
us.” 

The doctor led her into a temporary frame- 
building adjoining the hospital. Here, in an 
uncarpeted, plainly furnished sitting-room, they 
found five ladies, two of whom wore the peculiar 
costumes of Sisters of Charity. 

Clara was introduced to these ladies, and was 
particularly impressed with Mrs. Reynolds, who 
had charge of the female nurses, and by “ Sister 
Agnes,” a sweet-faced, sad-eyed young woman, 
who directed the Sisters of Charity at that point. 

When the object of Clara’s visit to Nashville 
became known to the ladies, they vied with each 
other in expressions of sympathy, and one and 
all assured her — without any reason but faith 
and hope for their belief— that the captain would 
recover. 

Clara’s trunk had been sent to the hospital, 


i6o 


In the Hospital . 


and on learning this, Mrs. Reynolds had it 
carried to the ladies’ quarters and to a little 
room near her own. 

“ We shall try to make you comfortable here, 
my child,” said Mrs. Reynolds, taking both 
Clara’s hands and pressing them affectionately. 
“ Our hearts are with you, and our hands are 
eager to help.” 

The beds occupied by the ladies, all of whom 
were young and refined, were common army 
cots covered with gray army blankets ; but they 
had the addition of dainty, white sheets, and 
there were flowers in the rooms, and the evi- 
dence, in little, indefinable touches, of woman’s 
hand and woman’s presence. 

After making some changes in her dress, Clara 
returned to the main room, where she found a 
table spread with a plain, substantial supper. 

After supper, Sister Agnes took her arm and 
whispered : 

“ Shall we go to him now ?” 

Clara understood and nodded. 

The captain had a room to himself at the end 
of a long ward, but through this ward they had 
to pass to reach him. 





T<V • y 










In the Hospital . 


1 6 1 


An unobstructed lane ran down the middle of 
the ward, on either side of which there was a 
long line* of cots. 

On every cot was stretched the form of a 
soldier. 

Some were men in the prime of life, but the 
great majority were under twenty-five ; many of 
them being youths whose faces had not yet been 
touched by a razor. 

Some looked rugged and happy ; many had 
i expressions of torture in their hollow eyes ; and 
a few lay with the fixed stare and pallid expres- 
sion of the dead. 

Here and there Sister Agnes stopped to make 
an inquiry, or to speak — in her low, gentle voice 
, — a word of comfort to some poor boy whose 
hours on earth were numbered. 

And as she went down, like an Angel of Mercy 
through the ranks of the suffering and dying, the 
brave fellows followed her with their eyes, and 
in their hearts invoked a blessing on their gentle 
nurse. 

A lamp fixed over the head of the captain’s 
• bed added to the pallor of his face and the 
( corpse-like appearance of his tall, extended form. 


162 


In the Hospital. 


“ He appears to be breathing more naturally,” 
said a man, who, from his chair in a dark corner, 
had been watching the wounded officer. 

“We will excuse you for a while, Roberts,” 
said Sister Agnes ; and the man, who was an 
invalid soldier, detailed to act as a nurse, bowed 
and withdrew. 

Clara sat down on a camp-stool at the head of 
the cot. She was surprised at her own strength 
and calmness. 

“Breathing easier,” she thought, as she 
watched the quick heaving of his wounded 
breast, and saw the glistening beads of agony on 
his broad, white forehead. “ What must his 
breathing have been like before?” 

Again she took his right hand in hers. It was 
burning hot when she felt it before, now it was 
moist and cooler, and she hailed it as a good sign. 

Sister Agnes, signaling that she would return 
again, stole out on tip-toe. 

Clara pressed Paul’s hand between her own 
cool palms, and eagerly watched his face, won- 
dering all the while what she could do for him, 
and feeling that the sacrifice of her own life 


In the Hospital , 


163 

would be a blessing if she could only give it for 
his. 

As she watched him, a pleased expression came 
over his face, his lips parted, and he whispered : 

“ Clara !” 

Was it possible that he was aware of her pres- 
ence? 

Her first impulse was to drop on her knees in 
gratitude to Heaven, and then to throw her arms 
about his neck and call to him that she was there ; 
but before she could move he had spoken again. 

“ Stop ! Don’t fire ; that man is my brother !” 

“ Paul ! Paul !” she whispered ; “ it is your sis- 
ter — it is Clara. She is here, here beside you.” 

His brows became knit, as if he were trying by 
a desperate mental effort to concentrate his wan- 
dering thoughts ; but, as if aware of the failure, 
he began to rock his head slowly. 

“ Cowards to skulk when brave men are hold- 
ing the fort ! On to the front ! Take the guns ! 
Never mind me !” 

His eyes were already closed, but he closed 
them tighter, and so remained for some minutes, 
the peaceful expression gradually taking the 


164 


In the Hospital. 


place of the excited look as the battle picture 
faded from his wandering thoughts. 

Clara choked back her tears, and tried to ease 
her feelings by kissing his hand. 

“ There, there ; I smell the old plantation’s 
clover blooms again ; and mother and Clara 
stand in the door to greet me. No, no ; Clara is 
gone !” 

“ Not gone, Paul. She is here, my darling ! 
Clara is here by your side ! She is holding your 
hand, Paul ! Her heart is heavy for you !” 

And then, unable longer to control the torture 
in her heart, she did fall on her knees, .and her 
arms were about his neck, and her tears — thank 
God for the relief of tears — were raining on his 
face. 

And so Clara remained ; it might have been 
for minutes, it might have been for hours ; for 
agony, like joy, takes no note of time. 

“ My dear sister, you do yourself wrong. You 
may do him great harm. Come with me ; come 
and take the rest you so sorely need. He will be 
in good hands. To-morrow you will be stronger, 
and let us pray that he may be better.” 

The gentle words fell on Clara’s ears like a 


In the Hospital. 


165 

healing balm. They were the “ Peace, be still,” 
of the Master to tempest-tossed Galilee. 

She looked up to see the sweet face of Sister 
Agnes bending over her with a look of infinite 
compassion and affection in her calm, soulful 
eyes. 

Clara permitted herself to be led to the little 
room assigned her, and after getting her to lie 
down, Sister Agnes kissed her, lowered the light, 
and went softly out. 

The very first person Clara saw when she 
entered the nurses’ sitting and dining-room the 
next rnorning was Doctor Threlkeld. 

That splendid-looking gentleman’s face, so far 
as it could be seen through its heavy covering of 
brown beard, was radiant with delight, and his 
dark eyes beamed with the secret of good news. 

Taking Clara’s hands and pressing them with 
fervor, he said : 

“ Let me congratulate you, Miss Leroy ; you 
are better than all the doctors in the army.” 

“ I do not understand,” she said ; and yet her 
heart anticipated what the doctor was going to 
say. 

“ A great change for the better has taken place 


In the Hospital 


1 66 

in the captain’s case ; and, as the doctors have not 
wrought it, we must attribute it to you.” 

“ No, not to me, but to God,” she said. Then 
she asked, hurriedly : “ Will he know me, do you 
think ?” 

“Yes; his reason has returned; he is much 
better.” 

“ And does he know I am here ?” 

“ Yes. I thought it better to tell him quietly 
of that, for the shock of your unexpected pres- 
ence might be fatal.” 

“ Then take me to him at once,” she said, taking 
a forward step, as if she would herself lead the 
way. 

“ No, not till you have had breakfast and I have 
prepared him for your coming. Here come Mrs. 
Reynolds and Sister Agnes. I will leave you in 
their hands for the present.” And shaking her 
hand with delight, and beaming on her with 
great satisfaction, the doctor went out. 

The kind nurses wasted but little time at the 
table, and yet to Clara that was the longest meal 
she had ever sat down to, and she wondered at 
the appetite shown by her companions, and the 
length of time they took to satisfy it. 


In the Hospital 


167 


In her anxiety, she was the first to rise, and was 
standing at the door, eagerly watching for the 
doctor’s coming, when that gentleman put in an 
appearance. 

He led her down through the long ward, and 
she noticed that many of the cots were empty 
on which men had lain the night before ; and 
the solemn notes of a band playing the funeral 
march, in the distance, told her that the poor 
fellows were being carried to their last resting- 
place. The doctor left her standing at the door, 
and coming back within a few minutes, he said : 

“ I thought it better to go in and prepare him. 
He is bravely awaiting you ; see that you meet 
him as bravely.” 

Preceded by the doctor, Clara entered the 
room, and it was not till they came to the cot 
that the doctor stepped aside, and she saw him. 

There was a glad, eager look in his eyes, and 
he raised his left hand — the other was powerless. 

“ Now I shall leave you for awhile,” said the 
doctor, turning away. 

Clara made no outcry, but restraining her feel- 
ings by an effort of will that was like the dragging 
of a heavy chain, she came forward, took his hand 


In the Hospital . 


1 68 

and kissed him, and then said, with forced calm- 
ness: 

“ I heard you were wounded, Paul, and I felt 
that I must come to you.” 

“ I — I was sure you were near when 1 opened 
my eyes this morning. It has all been like a 
dream. But mother?” 

He pressed her hand, and looked into her face 
for an answer. 

“ She is awaiting us, dear Paul, and when you 
are stronger — which will be very soon — we shall 
go to her. There, you must not talk ; it is not 
good for you.” 

“ But I can hear,” he said, with a pleased smile. 

“ Yes, and I shall tell you all the news — ” 

“ But Harry — tell me of him.” 

“ Yes ; but I cannot tell you all at once. Will 
you have lots of patience with me, Paul?” 

He smiled, nodded his head and closed his eyes 
with an expression of infinite rest and satisfac- 
tion ; and so he remained while she told him all 
that had befallen a divided house. 


A Guerrilla Chief. 




169 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A GUERRILLA CHIEF. 

Morgan and his men were not permitted to 
remain long at rest in the little town of Lebanon. 

Eager to avenge the raid on the railroad, the 
Union cavalry pursued in force, and the very 
night of Clara’s departure, they swept into the 
place, and the Confederate colonel and his horse- 
men had to fly, leaving behind them much of the 
booty they had taken from the train. 

During the desultory fight that followed the 
advent of the Union troop, George Netly was 
slightly wounded in the left leg. 

It is a remarkable fact that even in the case of 
very serious wounds, the injured soldier, par- 
ticularly if much excited, can neither recall the 
time of being hit nor the pain of the bullet when 
it struck. 

George Netly did not know he was hit till he 
chanced to lay his hand on his thigh, as he sat in 
the saddle. His hand felt damp, and by the light 


1 70 A Guerrilla Chief. 

of a building burning near by, he saw that it 
was bloody. 

At the discovery, rather than the injury, he 
turned pale, and hearing the shouts of “ Sur- 
render ! Surrender!’' accompanied by the cus- 
tomary profanity and the accepted but by no 
means complimentary names, he felt like turn- 
ing back to where the sabres of the men in blue 
were gleaming, but on second thought, he urged 
his horse in the opposite direction. 

* die remembered that before leaving Louisville, 
and in order to secure a pass for himself, he had 
taken an oath not to take up arms against the 
government of the United States. 

But here he was with his arms in his hands, 
and, although his position was far from being 
voluntary, he rightly reasoned that it would be 
very difficult to convince the Union officers of 
that fact. 

Strangely enough, he attributed all his mis- 
fortunes directly to Clara Leroy ; still they 
might have been endurable, if she could only 
know — and, of course, this was impossible — what 
he was suffering for her sake. 

Like the majority of Kentuckians, Netly was 


A Guerrilla Chief. 1 7 1 

a good rider, and this accomplishment of good 
horsemanship he now decided to use to the very 
best advantage. 

In making a hurried retreat, hehadmany excel- 
lent examples, so he put spurs to his horse and 
soon the direction of Lebanon was only discerni- 
ble by the coppery glow made on the lowering 
clouds by the flames of houses, which each side 
declared it did not start. 

It was not till daylight, and after the pursuit 
had been given up for more than two hours,* 
that Morgan brought his men to a halt in a 
grassy valley, about twenty-five miles due west 
of the town from which they had come with so 
much speed. 

Before the war, Morgan had commanded a 
militia infantry company, known in his native 
town as “ The Lexington Rifles,” and nearly all 
of this company left with him, taking their arms 
along, when he started for the South the summer 
before. But now this remarkable man was mak- 
ing himself known to both armies as a daring and 
skilful leader of irregular cavalry. 

With songs and laughter, as if nothing unusual 
had happened the night before, Morgan’s men 


172 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


staked their horses in the rich grass, lit fires, 
and then submitted to a roll-call, to see how many 
men had been lost in the affair of the night 
before. 

Forty-five men of the regular command, and 
all the unmustered volunteers in butternut but 
three, were reported missing. 

A few wagons were carried off in the retreat, 
but an examination of these showed that they 
contained a good deal of ammunition, and but 
very little provisions. 

But this did not alarm the rugged troopers so 
long as they saw plenty of sleek cattle on the 
hills above their camp. 

A dozen young fellows started up the hill, 
culled out two of the best beeves, and drove them 
down to the fires. 

This proceeding was observe/! by the owner 
of the cattle, an old man with a tanned face, who 
immediately rode into camp on a fine horse and 
demanded to see the leader of the troops. 

As he chanced to ask the question of Morgan 
himself, he proceeded at once to state his case. 

“ Those are my cattle,” he said, “ and you have 
no right to steal them, sir.” 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


173 


“We don’t propose to steal,” said Morgan, 
quietly. “Name your price and I’ll pay you for 
them ; but we want meat, and must have it.” 

“ But I don’t want to sell my cattle,” said the 
man, his anger increasing every moment. 

“ See here, my friend,” said Morgan, with the 
manner of a man determined to end the dispute 
without much further debate, “ are you a Union 
man ?” 

“That is none of your business. But what if I 
am ?” was the reply. 

“ Only this,” said Morgan, quietly, “ that if 
you are a Union man—” 

“ Which I’m not,” broke in the old farmer. 

“ Glad to hear it ; but I was going to say that 
if you are a Union man, then you are an enemy, 
and your cattle come to us as a lawful prize.” 

“But I told you I’m a ‘Southern rights’ 
man.” 

“ Well, as a good * Southern rights ’ man, you 
should be willing to sell a few cattle to men who 
are daily risking their lives for you and your 
principles. We must have beef, so there’s an 
end of it. Now, what’s the price, and what kind 
of money do you want, Yankee or Confed. ?” 


174 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


Seeing that he could not resist, and that the 
cattle were already killed, the old man named 
a stiff price, and added : 

“ As to the kinder money ; I reckon, seein’ as 
how the Yankees has come har prepared to stay, 
it mout be more handy like if you paid me- in 
their doggoned shin-plasters.” 

On hearing this, the troopers broke into a roar 
of laughter, in which John Morgan heartily 
joined ; and the old man, having received his 
price, left the camp 

His fine horse had already attracted the notice 
of more than one of the troopers, and it need not 
be added that the old farmer was forced into “ a 
swap ” before the day was over. 

Although not serious, George Netly’s wound 
was very painful, and soon after reaching camp 
he told Ovy that he wanted to see his master. 

Harry came at once to his old neighbor, 
whom he found lying under a tree, where a 
doctor had just dressed his injury. 

“ Sorry you’re hit, old fellow,” said Harry, in 
the good-natured, off-hand way that seems so 
natural to soldiers. “ Hope you’ll be able to ride 
with us when we break camp this afternoon.” 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


*75 


“ Oh,” groaned Netly, as he pressed his thigh 
with both hands, “ the doctor thinks it’ll be 
weeks and weeks before I can ride. What is to 
become of me ?” 

“ If it’s as bad as that, we’ll carry you to the 
farm-house near by. The owner is one of our 
people, and will be sure to take good care of you 
till you get well. When you are able to ride, we 
shall be glad to have you back again. A pity 
you got hit before you saw any fun,” said Harry, 
with a well-meant effort at consolation. 

“Fun!” exclaimed George Netly. “Great 
Caesar! if you call this sort of work ‘ fun,’ I’d 
like to know what your idea of torture, weari- 
ness, hunger and heartache is !” 

“ Oh, I know it’s mighty unpleasant to be hit. 
But there’s fun in the excitement, as you will see 
when you get back,” said Harry. 

Then and there, George Netly, abundantly 
satisfied with his brief but stirring war experience, 
made up his mind that when he got well enough 
to sit a horse, he would make “ a bee line ” for 
his home in Jessamine county. 

“ I’m not afraid to die myself,” said Netly, 
desperately, “ but I’m afraid it will kill my mother 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


1 76 

and father when they hear of this. And I say, 
Harry.” 

“ Say ahead, old fellow.” 

“ If you ever get a chance to send word to Miss 
Clara, would you mind telling her that I was 
shot down in battle, and that all my wounds are 
in front?” 

It was only by a great effort that Harry could 
keep from laughing outright ; as it was, he prom- 
ised to comply with Netly’s request, and he left 
him with a feeling of contempt for the fellow’s 
manhood, and a feeling of gladness that George 
Netly, in no sense, could be taken as a type of the 
young men of the South. 

But Netly was certainly wounded, and as he 
was the only man in the command who declared 
he could not sit in the saddle that afternoon, he 
was left at the old farmer’s house, much against 
that old patriot’s will ; and John Morgan and his 
men were off on another daring raid. 

This old farmer, whose name was Crump, had 
a good farm and a dozen slaves. His family 
consisted of himself, a wife, who looked like a 
twin sister, and a daughter of twenty-five, who 
was a persistent dipper. 


A Guerrilla Chief. 177 

The farm — Mr. Crump called it his “ planta- 
tion ” — was secluded and far removed from the 
highways of travel, and so, one would think, 
away from the armies of friend and foe ; but, 
as we have seen, it was struck by a receding 
wave of the battle-tide, nor, as we shall soon see 
again, was this to be the last visitation of armed 
men. 

To the credit of Mr. Crump, Mrs. Crump and 
Miss Mollie Crump, the daughter, it should be 
said that they did everything in their power for 
the comfort of the wounded man ; and, as a con- 
sequence, George Netly, at the end of three 
weeks, was able to walk about with a very slight 
limp, and he began seriously to think of return- 
ing ; but his yearning was not in the direction of 
John Morgan’s command. 

George Netly was not the most observant of 
men, but he would have been wholly wanting in 
perception, and that vanity which is said to be 
the attribute of most men, if he had not noticed 
that as his leg got well, Miss Mollie Crump’s 
tender and highly susceptible heart became 
deeply affected. 

Being wholly untrammeled by those conven- 


i ;8 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


tionalities of society that restrain the ordinary 
young lady from giving expression to her love, 
till a declaration from the favored one has let 
down the restraining barriers, she showed her 
affection when it firsttook root in her heart, and 
her ardent demonstrations proved its rapid and 
exuberant growth. 

One night, Miss Mollie and George Netly 
were sitting on the piazza, and the old folks were 
smoking in the kitchen. It was moonlight, just 
the season for lovers, and the mocking-birds 
were filling the neighboring grove with a con- 
fused melody, when Mollie laid her hand on the 
young man’s arm, and said : 

“ Mr. Netly, do you know what dad an’ mam 
thinks?” 

“ No, I don’t,” he said. 

“ They think that you an’ me’s gittin’ mighty 
sweet on each other,” said Mollie, hitching her 
chair nearer. <r» 

“But why — why — ” 

She did not permit him to finish, but con- 
tinued : 

“Yes, they thinks me an’ you has ’bout ’greed 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


179 


to make a match of it; an’, for one, I’ll allow, 
they ain’t far out of the way this time — ” 

“ But I must leave,” protested Netly. 

“ If you do I’ll foller. I ain’t skeert to keep 
right straight along to the [ind by your side. 
An’, I reckon, when your dad an’ mam comes to 
know me they won’t — ” 

Possibly Miss Mollie meant to add “ object,” 
but it should be recorded as a matter of history 
that she never finished that sentence, unless the 
loud, piercing scream, which she immediately 
uttered, might be taken as a fitting conclusion to 
her declaration of fidelity. 

George Netly was too much stunned to ask 
the cause of the girl’s alarm, nor was there any 
reason why he should make an inquiry, when 
the evidence of his own sight gave the answer. 

Out from the grove and up from the ground 
sprang the dark, lithe figures of armed men. 

Were they friends or foes ? George Netly 
did not know, and he was too weak to inquire. 
Even if escape had been possible, he was inca- 
pable of making an effort. 

The men quickly gathered about the house, 
and by the torches which a number of them lit, 


i8o 


A Guerrilla Chief. 


Netly saw they were armed and dressed in but- 
ternut colors, and his courage, such as it was, 
began to return. 

But he was doomed to disappointment. 

He did not know, had never heard, indeed, of 
Dick Herd, the guerrilla chief, and his band of 
mountain desperadoes. 

On a nearer approach, it could be seen that all 
these men were masked or in some other way 
disguised. 

They sprang into the house like wolves, but 
without uttering a word, and they bound and 
gagged the old man with his wife and daughter. 

They ransacked the house till they found the 
money, and had gathered up everything of value 
that was portable. 

Their work was done quickly and silently. 

Within an hour, Dick Herd’s men, many of 
whom had lately been fighting under John Mor- 
gan, left the valley, driving before them the 
remaining cattle, and with George Netly a pris- 
oner in their midst. 


Home Again . 


1 8 1 


CHAPTER XV. 

HOME AGAIN. 

Mrs. Rosser, as we already know, was com- 
pletely prostrated by the news of her son ; nor 
did she recover from the shock for days — not, 
indeed, till Clara wrote her that Paul was not 
only alive, but improving, and that the doctors 
were in hopes that he could soon be sent home 
in charge of one of their number. 

During this severe trial, Dora Burns, faithful 
to her trust, remained with Mrs. Rosser, nursing 
her into strength, and cheering her with brave 
assurances that all would yet be well. 

And Mrs. Burns, a handsome, positive lady — 
just the woman for a soldier’s wife, seconded 
her daughter in all her acts, except it might be 
that persistent young lady’s refusal to believe 
that “ Lieutenant Howard Raymond was not 
only rich and well educated, but a man of whom 
any woman might be proud.” 

Since he had been so fortunate as to be 


182 


Home Again. 


stationed at Lexington, with but little to do, 
except to wear a fine uniform and ride a fine 
horse, Raymond might be called “a constant 
visitor ” at the Burns or the Rosser place. 

If he had been as resolute as a soldier as he 
was in his determination to win Dora Burn’s 
heart, he would have been, from the sound of the 
first gun, fighting like a hero at the battle’s front. 

Nearly every day he sent or brought to Mrs. 
Rosser a telegram — it was called “a telegraph ” 
in those days — telling how Paul and Clara were 
getting on. 

In the meantime, the newspapers that had 
been singing Paul’s praises, denounced Harry as 
“ a guerrilla,” and they did not hesitate to invent 
stories which went to prove that he had been a 
monster of cruelty and perfidy. 

Howard Raymond was the source of these 
slanders. He saw that marked copies of the 
papers containing them found their way to 
Dora ; but when with that young lady he pru- 
dently abstained from any allusion to the man 
he had defamed, and whom he was so eager to 
supplant. 

He had every reason to believe that his suit 


Home Again. 183 

was progressing favorably, for every day Dora 
became more outspoken in favor of the Union 
and more bitter against its foes. Her father was 
now in command of a brigade at the front, and 
her anxiety for his safety increased as the battle 
days went on, and the battle tide ebbed and 
flowed with or against the troops he com- 
manded. 

One day a letter came from Clara, saying that 
she would be home with Paul on the 16th of 
May, and asking that eight of the hands on the 
place be at the Nicholasville station to meet them 
with a stretcher. 

In this same letter Clara told of a visit she had 
had from the widow of the Michigan major, and 
the sad scene that took place when she gave the 
poor woman her husband’s sword and the articles 
that had been taken from his person after* he was 
shot down. 

Mrs. Rosser and Dora had just finished read- 
ing this letter, and were making glad comments 
on the good news it brought, when Mr. Netly, 
George’s father, was ushered into their presence. 

The old man was much excited. Already he 
had learned that George had joined the Southern 


1 8 4 


Home Again. 


army, but as he was not informed of the circum- 
stances, he had come to think his son was a very 
daring, hot-headed young man, wholly wanting 
in that prudence and forethought which he had 
himself inculcated by precept and example. 

He had been to see Mrs. Rosser many times 
since his son’s departure, but never before had 
he shown the great anxiety that stirred him for 
George’s safety. 

He held a letter tightly grasped in his hand, 
as he took the chair to which Mrs. Rosser 
waved him. 

He sat down with a groan, and his chin 
dropped on his breast, and his eyes fell on the 
floor. 

“ Are you ill, Mr. Netly ?” asked Mrs. Rosser, 
anxiously. 

“No, no; only sick at heart,” he said, with 
another groan. 

“ Have you news from George ?” she asked, 
her own heart telling her how his might be 
affected. 

“ Yes, news from Georgy,” he said ; and he 
looked down at the paper clutched in his hand, 
and shook his head. 


Home Again . 


* 185 


‘•And it is bad news, Mr. Netly?” 

“ It could na’ weel be worse,” said the old 
man, who, when at all excited, dropped into the 
strongest Scotch accent. 

“ Oh, I am sorry !” she said. “ But let us hope 
it is not as bad as you imagine. Is your son 
wounded ?” 

“Worse nor that; worse nor that, Mrs. Ros- 
ser.” 

“ Not dead, 1 pray?” 

“ No — not dead ; but it may be e’en worse nor 
that.” 

Neither Mrs. Rosser nor Dora could very well 
see how anything could be worse than death ; 
and with the assurance that George was still 
alive, they tried to comfort the old man while 
trying to get him to explain. 

It was Dora who asked: 

“ Can it be, Mr. Netly, that George is a pris- 
oner?” 

“Yes; Georgy is a preezner!” cried the old 
man ; and he again looked down at the letter to 
indicate that he had evidence for his statement. 

“ He will soon be exchanged,” Mrs. Rosser 
ventured to say. 


1 86 * 


Home Again . 


“ No ; they’ll not exchange him. He writes 
me that they are keepin’ holt of him for a ran- 
som.” 

“ For a ransom !” exclaimed the ladies. 

“ Yes, for a ransom of five thousan’ dollars ; 
an’ they say it must be paid in goold within three 
weeks, or they’ll leave him swinging to a tree 
away on the mountains.” 

And Mr. Netly groaned, and pressed his hands 
to his head in great agony. 

“ Surely, Mr. Netly, you are mistaken,” said 
Mrs. Rosser. “ No matter how much people may 
talk against the government, it is that of a civil- 
ized people, who could not be guilty of the bar- 
barous conduct you suggest.” 

“ But it’s no’ the gover’ment, and it’s no’ the 
Yankees,” said Mr. Netly. And having secured 
his glasses and wiped them on the skirt of his 
coat, he put them on, and opened the paper which 
up to this time he had been clutching. 

Mrs. Rosser and Dora exchanged questioning 
glances ; they evidently thought the old man’s 
mind unbalanced. 

“ Mebbe ye’d no’ objec’ to my readin’ a letter 
which came to my hand this morning ?” said Mr. 


Home Again. 


1 87 


Netly, straightening up and holding the paper 
before him, with both arms extended, for his 
glasses were too young. 

“ On the contrary,” said Mrs. Rosser, “ we shall 
be glad to hear you.” 

With this assurance, Mr. Netly, after many 
efforts to clear his throat, read as follows : 

“ Cumberland Mountains, May 3d, 1862. 

“ My Dear Father: — Since writing the letter 
I sent you by Miss Clara, many things has hap- 
pened to me. 

“ In the battle at Lebanon Tenn I was shot 
in the leg, and thought I. would bleed to death 
for the Yanks chased me and Morgan, and the 
others through the hills till we were all bout 
played out and 1 was a-bleeding all the time 
till we struck a little valley and all halted and 
my leg was swelt up as big as ’n elephants. 

“ The others had to go on after leaving me 
at Crumps, a farmers house with a daughter 
Mollie where they nursed me for three weeks 
and I was getting able to walk and wanted to 
come home to see you all. 


Home Again. 


1 88 

“ One night a lot of gorillars whose captain 
calls himself Dick Herd and he has a brother 
Lishe made a rade on Crumps and stole every- 
thing they could lay their hands on and they 
took me off a prisoner into the Cumberland 
Mountains Ky where I am now. 

“ No pen can tell what I have suffered and 
Dick Herd and his crowd is holding me for ran- 
som which is five thousand dollars in gold and 
they swear that if it ain’t in Burkville by the first 
of June and no fuss razed they will hang me to a 
tree and then make me a targit which wont much 
matter if I am dead. 

“ Neither Dick nor his gang can read but they 
made me write this and they will post it. Oh 
little did I dream when I rode away from my 
home that morning that it would come to all 
this. 

“ It was for Claras sake that I braved the dan- 
gers and the battles ror and that I am now going 
to a felins doom if the 5,000 in gold are not sent 
to the mountains. 

“ I have made up my mind that patriotism 
ain’t what its cracked up to be in time of war. 


Home Again. 


189 


“ Give my love to my mother and all my 
friends who may never see me more. 

“ From your doomed son 
“ George Netly.” 

“ P. S. Mollie Crump has made her way over 
the mountains and she says she will stick by me 
till I die but I don’t want her to and she wont 
go home which makes it all the worse. 

G. N.” 

“Well, ladies, what do you think of that?” 
asked the desperate old man, folding up the let- 
ter, and clutching it in his right hand again. 

Neither Mrs. Rosser nor Dora knew what to 
think, and they frankly said so. 

“ It must be,” said Mrs. Rosser, “ that these 
men are outlaws who acknowdedge allegiance to 
neither side.” 

“ But what would you do if you was in my 
place, Mrs. Rosser?” asked Mr. Netly, rising. 

“ I think I should pay the ransom and fetch 
my son home.” 

“ But the Yankee’ll make him a preezner if I 
do that.” 

“ Then pay the ransom, and let him return to the 


1 90 Home Again. 

Southern army to which he belongs,” suggested 
Dora, who consoled herself with the thought 
that his return would make no great acquisition 
to the South. 

“ But he’ll be kilt there, for he’s a brash lad, 
as his conduct shows. But I’m.maist distracted, 
for the price of goold’s gone up ; an’ with five 
thousand dollars gone, the poor-house will be 
starin’ me and the mither in the face,” and with- 
out another word, Mr. Netly pulled on his hat 
and rushed frantically out, his heart rent by the 
contending loves for his dollars and for his son. 

But though feeling sorrow for the miserly old 
man, Mrs. Rosser was too much stirred by the 
news from Clara to give him long thought. 

If Paul were coming home that night, the pre- 
parations for his reception and care could not 
have been pushed forward with more energy. 

When the news spread among the servants, 
they were wild with delight, all except Uncle Eph 
and Aunt Marfa. The good old people lamented 
Virgil as one dead. He had not been heard of 
since the battle in which his master was shot 
down ; and there was an impression among the 
hands that if he were alive, it must be as a slave 


Home Again. 


191 

in that indefinite region of terrors, “ away down 
Souf.” 

At length there came a day when many dis- 
patches came to the house from Nicholasville, 
each successive one dated from a nearer place, 
and all bringing the good news that Paul was 
standing the trip nobly. 

An hour before the time for the train, Mrs. 
Rosser, Dora and her mother, with every hand 
on the place who could walk, were at the station. 

For once, the cars were on time; and Paul, 
Clara and Dr. Threlkeld, who had come with 
them, were on the cars. 

Useless here to attempt to describe that meet- 
ing. 

There were tears, but they were tears of joy. 

And they placed the worn captain on a 
stretcher, and his own black people, in reliefs of 
fours, carried him tenderly back to his own room 
in his old Kentucky home. 


192 


Harry Enters a Trap. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HARRY ENTERS A TRAP. 

The spring passed away, and the summer 
came, with varying success and defeat to either 
side, but with increasing strength and despera- 
tion to both. 

Boys who had gone into the army in the 
beginning, speedily developed into men, bronzed 
like Indians in the fiery furnace of war. 

Among the characters whose acts we try faith- 
fully to record, there had been some changes. 

George Netly, although he was now in hiding 
most of the time, had been ransomed by his 
father and so saved, for the present, at least, 
from the hands of the outlaws and the ardent 
demonstrations of the smitten Mollie Crump. 

Lieutenant Raymond’s attentions to Dora 
Burns became more devoted, and society, agi- 
tated and disorganized though it was, had time 
to spread the rumor that the young people were 






Harry Enters a Trap . 


193 


engaged, and would not postpone their mar- 
riage for the indefinite coming of peace. 

Despite every attention of affection and skill, 
Paul Rosser did not grow stronger ; but, 
reduced to a shadow of his former self, he was 
carried from the room where he spent his nights 
to the cool piazza on which he spent the summer 
days, with his mother or Clara ever by his side, 
and ready to anticipate his every want. 

Meantime there was only one letter from 
Harry, and that was full of affection. He said 
nothing about himself, but expressed great anxi- 
ety for Paul and his mother. 

Ovy, he said, was still with him and in good 
health. This news had a cheering effect on Aunt 
Marfa and Uncle Eph. 

But as Harry was known to be with John Mor- 
gan, and as John Morgan persisted in making his 
whereabouts felt, the family always knew about 
where the command was. 

The August, September and October of that 
1 year were pre-eminently the battle months in 
Kentucky, and then, more than ever before, the 
I cause of the South seemed assured in that State. 

Up from Cumberland Gap came Kirby Smith 




194 


Harry Enters a Trap. 


with his ragged veterans to recruit and be clothed 
in the favored Blue-Grass region. 

The battle at Richmond was fought, and the 
raw levies of the North were put to flight or 
captured. 

Lexington was taken, and amid the thunders 
of cannon and the acclamations of sympathisers, 
who believed the Southern troops had come to 
stay, the banner of the Confederacy was floated 
from the court-house dome. 

Lieutenant Raymond and his friends, with John 
Morgan in hot pursuit, fled to Covington. 

But all this was only a ripple in the inundation 
of gray which soon after poured over the State. 

Up from Middle Tennessee came Bragg with 
his bronzed legions, his objective point being 
Louisville, and his hope that he would hold Ken- 
tucky and carry the war into the North. 

On parallel roads, often marching so near to 
each other that the hurrying columns of blue or 
gray could see the dust the other raised by day, 
and mark their camp-fires at night, Buell’s army 
strained every nerve to reach the Ohio first, and, 
to the great relief of Union men, he gallantly 
succeeded. 


Harry Enters a Trap . 


*95 


A few weeks of rest, preparation and recruiting 
on both sides, and once more the banners of the 
Army of the Cumberland were turned to the 
South, and, to the dismay of their friends, Bragg 
and Kirby Smith fell slowly back to the fat lands 
of central Kentucky. 

As at every house in that region, hundreds of 
Confederate soldiers had been cared for at Mrs. 
Rosser's. To these men Paul did not show him- 
self, and if they knew he was there — and it is safe 
to conclude that they did — no attempt was made 
to disturb him. 

One day, about the time when the hold of 
Bragg on the State seemed the strongest, Harry, 
who had obtained a leave of absence from his 
very active command, appeared at the old home, 
accompanied by Ovy. 

Harry was certainly not ashamed of his uni- 
form, but with rare delicacy, and in considera- 
tion of his mother's and his brother’s feelings — 
“prejudices,” he thought them — he came back to 
| the old home in the plain garb of a citizen, just 
as he had left it. 

The life of a soldier had agreed with him. He 
was bearded and brown, and familiarity with 


196 Harry Enters a Trap. 

danger had given a fixed expression of resolution 
to his face, which enhanced its manly beauty. 

Like all his race, Ovy had a love for colors 
and things that glitter. In some way he had 
come into possession of a Confederate officer’s 
coat, on the sleeves and collar of which there 
were intricate mazes of gold braid, and this he 
now wore with great pride, and tried to suit his 
conduct to his dress by speaking, with great 
affection and bravado, of “our side,” and of 
referring to the Union troops with great con- 
tempt as “ dem ar dog-goned Yankees.” 

The hands in the fields saw the two riders as 
they emerged from the woods, and, with shouts 
of joy, they ran to the road, Uncle Eph ahead, 
despite his years ; and they laughed and cried, 
as they shook their young master’s hand, and 
danced like Indians about Ovy, whom they 
dragged from the saddle with affectionate force. 

Harry dismounted at the stable, but his inten- 
tion to walk deliberately to the house was given 
up when he caught sight oi his mother and Clara 
on the piazza. 

With a shout of joy, he bounded forward, 


Iiarry Enters a Trap . 197 


and soon he was kissing and embracing both by 
turns, and asking for Paul in the pauses. 

And Mrs. Rosser, through the dimming tears 
of her affectionate greeting, looked up at her 
handsome, generous son, and for the moment for- 
got that her house was divided. 

“ Where is Paul ? Take me to the dear fellow 
at once !” cried Harry, as, giving his right hand 
to his mother and his left to Clara, he led them 
into the house. 

Paul was in his own room, seated in an easy- 
chair, and looking through the open window at 
the undulating fields and wooded slopes stretch- 
ing beyond the Kentucky River in the direction 
of Harrodsburg. 

He was reduced to a shadow of his former self. 
His face was pale and pinched with long months 
of torture, which he had endured with the uncom- 
plaining gentleness and fortitude so rarely seen 
in strong men, and which, when seen, ever indi- 
cates a nature of unusual nobility. 

Paul heard outside the familiar footstep and 
the more familiar voice, and a glad light flashed 
into his hollow eyes, and he made as if he would 
rise from the chair ; but before he could do so 


198 


Harry Enters a Trap. 


the voice and the footfall were in the room, and 
the next instant Harry’s arms were about him. 

After a few minutes, Mrs. Rosser and Clara 
stole softly out, leaving the brothers alone. 

And Paul, as he held the other’s hand in his 
feeble grasp, eagerly scanned the handsome 
brown face; and, forgetting the parting and the 
war, thought only of the happy past, when they 
swam the river or played in the meadows, now 
gleaming outside through the golden haze of an 
autumn sun. 

But Paul’s worn face and painful cough kept 
before Harr}/ the cause of his brother’s condition, 
and with tears in his voice, and in his brave, 
brown eyes, too, he said : 

“ Oh, Paul ; how I have — how I do pray for 
peace. God knows how eagerly 1 would take 
your wounds, if that were possible.” 

“ Not of war to-day, Harry ; let us talk of 
peace,” said Paul. 

And they did speak of peace ; and tried, with 
the light of hope, to see through the smoke- 
curtain of the future. But, even as they spoke, 
up from the south came the heavy booming of 
artillery. 


Harry Enters a Trap . 


l 99 


They might have wondered what this sound 
meant one year ago, but the heavy and continued 
reverberations, that now frightened the air into 
a tremor, told that a fierce fight was going on 
between Buell and Bragg, in the direction of 
Perryville and a few hours ride away. 

As they sat there listening, brothers, not the 
bitter types of the gallant men struggling and 
dying on the banks of Chaplin Creek, Clara came 
hurriedly in with a note, saying, as she handed it 
to Harry : 

“ A soldier brought this and then galloped 
away.” 

Harry opened and read the letter. 

It was from Colonel George St. Leger Grenfel, 
an English soldier of fortune, who at that time 
was John Morgan’s chief of staff. 

The letter said that the Confederate Army, 
pressed by an overwhelming force, was about to 
fall back to Tennessee by way of Cumberland 
Gap, and it ordered Harry to report to his com- 
mand at Danville the next morning. 

Harry told the purport of the letter, and said, 
as he put it in his breast pocket : 

“ I shall not leave till dark.” 


200 


Harry Enters a Trap. 


And he did stay till dark, and it would have 
been a happy day to all, but for “ the terrible 
rumble and grumble and roar,” that never ceased 
till night came to put an end to the bloody con- 
test at Perryville. 

At length the time for the sad parting came, 
and, in company with his servant, Harry Ros- 
ser for the second time went gallantly away to 
the war. 

It would have been well for him if he had, as 
on a former occasion, ridden directly to the 
south. 

But love is stronger and more enduring than 
hate. As he rode off, he saw, away in the dis- 
tance, the flash of a light in the home of Dora 
Burns. 

It lured him as a lamp does a moth, and he 
headed his horse in that direction. 

He thought only of her. Even if she scorned 
him, the sight of her face and the sound of her 
voice would be a memory to lighten the dark 
days that were coming. 

He did not dream that the Union cavalry 
had come nearer than Frankfort. He had given 
no thought to Howard Raymond ; how then 


The Trap is Sprung. 


20 r 


could he suspect that a trap had been set for him, 
or that to go to the house he must pass through 
a line of quiet but vigilant scouts, under the lead 
of his old foe and rival ? 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE TRAP IS SPRUNG. 

Bragg’s army entered Kentucky ragged, and 
with but few rations ; it left well clad, and with 
immense quantities of commissary supplies. 

The Southern cavalry came in with horses 
worn to the bone by ceaseless raiding ; they left 
mounted on the blooded steeds for which the 
blue-grass country is famed. 

Where they could not buy horses and supplies 
with their own depreciated currency, they 
excused themselves by the plea of necessity to 
“ impress ” what they needed, and, as was, per- 
haps, natural, the impressment fell with greatest 
severity on those known to be Union men. 

The stock on General Burns’ place, to use an 


202 


The Trap is Sprung. 


expressive phrase, was “ cleaned out.” All the 
cattle, except a few milch cows, were carried 
off ; and for the dozens of fine horses that were 
“ confiscated,” a few broken-down, saddle-galled 
animals were left behind. 

The Burns plantation was selected as a camp- 
ing-place for the recruits being raised in that 
part of Kentucky, and, although these men 
treated Mrs. Burns and Dora with great court- 
esy, they were determined not to go hungry while 
there was food on the farm, and, as a conse- 
quence, they left it very bare when they came to 
make their hurried departure. 

The ladies felt that they were being persecuted 
for their convictions, and the result was to 
change opposition into bitterness and dislike into 
hate. 

All that day of the Battle of Perryville, Mrs. 
Burns and her daughter listened eagerly to the 
ceaseless pounding of artillery that came up 
from the south ; and, \yith a confidence born of 
their hopes, for they knew General Burns was in 
the battle, they felt certain that victory was with 
the banners of the Union, and that the legions of 
Bragg would soon be in hot retreat. 


The Trap is Sprung . 


203 


Mrs. Burns and Dora were in the sitting-room 
together, wondering when they would get the 
news of the victory, for they had no doubts 
about the result, when a servant came in, and 
said, in a frightened whisper : 

“ Bar’s a young gentleman at de doah w’at 
wants to see Miss Dory foh a few minutes.” 

“ A rebel ?” asked Mrs. Burns, angrily. 

“No, Missy ; he didn’t ’pear to hab no pertick- 
lar kind of clothes on,” said the girl. 

“ Do you know him, Sue ?” 

“Yes, Missy.” 

“ Who is he?” 

“ Mauss Harry Rosser.” 

On hearing the name, Mrs. Burns sprang to 
her feet, and looked at her daughter with flash- 
ing eyes. 

“Have you invited this man here?” she asked. 

“ I ? I did not know he was in the neighbor- 
hood. I have not seen him nor heard from him 
since the night he first went South.” 

With good reason, Mrs. Burns had implicit 
faith in her daughter’s words ; but she was now 
puzzled to know whether Dora’s pallor was due 
to the old love or a new hate. 


204 


The Trap is Sprung. 


“ Will you see this man?” she asked, pointing 
to the door to give emphasis to her words. 

Dora hesitated a moment, as if debating the 
question with herself ; then she rose slowly, with 
her left hand pressed to her breast, and said : 

“ No matter what Harry Rosser may be now, 
I cannot forget what he has been, nor can I for- 
get how dear his mother and his brother still 
are to us. Yes, I will see him.” 

“ And you are in your senses, Dora?” 

“ In full possession of my senses, dear mother.” 

“ And you expect me to stay here and meet 
him ?” 

“ I shall leave that to yourself. I can see no 
harm that can result from your meeting him, for 
no matter how much we may censure his conduct, 
Harry Rosser must ever be a gentleman ; that is 
in the blood,” said Dora, with unmistakable 
earnestness. 

“ Then you are determined, Dora ?” 

“ Not to oppose your will, mother. Say so and 
I shall deny him, and let you explain to his 
mother when you meet, that you forced me to do 
so — ” 

Mrs. Burns did not wait for her daughter to 


The Trap is Sprung. 


205 


finish, but turned and left the room without 
another word. 

Meantime the girl Sue stood looking and listen- 
ing in mute surprise. When Mrs. Burns was out 
of hearing, she said : 

“ Missy, w’at must I say to Mauss Harry 
Rosser ?” 

“ Show him in,” was the reply 

Sue went out, and Dora Burns dropped into 
the chair from which she had risen, and pretended 
to be a-bsorbed in a book she picked from the 
table. 

But she did not see the lines. There was a 
mist before her eyes and an awful anxiety at her 
heart. 

She was in no mood for retrospection, yet, for 
an instant, there flashed through her agitated 
mind a memory of the long ago, when her heart 
yearned for his coming and her eager ears were 
the first to discover his familiar and ever welcome 
footfall. 

She heard the sitting-room door open ; but 
though she knew he was there, she did not look 
up. 


Dora — Miss Burns !” 


206 


The Trap is Sprung. 


Now she laid down her book and did look up, 
but it was with a calmness all the more frigid for 
being forced, and she said, with an assumption of 
mild surprise : 

“You, Mr. Rosser !” 

She did not motion him to a chair, but rose to 
her feet to indicate that she expected the inter- 
view to be brief. 

Hat in hand, Harry came nearer to the lamp, 
and there was a pained, perplexed look in his 
eyes, as he said : 

“ 1 have just been calling on my mother and 
Clara — and T wanted to see Paul — ” 

“ The better to understand the work of your 
friends ?” she said, with a questioning intonation 
and a bitterness in her voice that were foreign to 
her nature. 

“ Miss Burns,” he said, with a start, and speak- 
ing quickly, “ you do me an injustice, for I love 
my brother!” 

“ Love him ‘ fit to kill,’ as they say in the 
mountains.” 

Now she did look at him, and she noticed 
the change in his appearance and the fact that 
he wore citizens’ dress. 


The Trap is Sprung. 


207 


Could it be that he had relented of his course 
and left the army ? Desirable though this was — 
with a strange inconsistency, which we shall not 
attempt to explain — she felt in her heart that if 
her suspicion were true, her opposition would be 
turned into contempt. 

He soon undeceived her. 

“I was near here, and about to leave again,” 
he said, with the gentleness that always distin- 
guished his voice when near her, “ and I could 
not resist the desire to call. Are you angry for 
this ?” 

“ Angry !” she said, with a forced laugh, “ why, 
if I should be angry at the undesired visits of 
John Morgan’s men, I would have been in a con- 
stant passion for the last month. But just as I 
was becoming resigned to their presence, they 
began to leave.” 

“ Miss Burns, surely you do not think I am 
here to annoy you?” 

“ No, I do not think you could knowingly do 
that,” she said, quickly, adding, after a pause : 
“you are at least a brave man, Mr. Rosser, and 
brave men never annoy ladies who have no one 
but the frightened servants to defend them.” 


208 


The Trap is Sprung. 


“ I see you are still bitter — ” 

“ Have I not reason to be bitter?” she broke in. 

“ If you say so, I shall not deny it,” he said, 
quietly. “ But I am at a loss to know why you 
should be bitter against me.” 

“ Mr. Rosser !” 

“ Miss Burns.” 

“ Did you hear the sound of cannon near 
Perry ville to-day ?” 

“ I did.” 

“ You know what it meant?” 

“ 1 should say it meant a battle.” 

“ ^nd a battle means opposing armies?” 

“ Surely.” 

“ It means death and suffering?” 

“ Alas, yes,” said Harry, sadly. 

“ That battle was fought between your friends 
and mine, between the men of the Union and the 
men who would rend it to gratify their own hate 
and ambition ; men who would, in the language 
of Milton : 

“ ‘ Rather rule in Hell than serve in Heaven — * ” 

“Miss Burns,” he interrupted, with dignity, 
“ it is too late to debate ; the difference between 


The Trap is Sprung. 


209 


the sections has been submitted to the arbitra- 
ment of the sword, and let the ending be what it 
may, I, as a man, shall accept the result. But I 
called as a neighbor ; called, that I might forget 
the war and all its bitterness, in talking over 
with the little playmate of my boyhood those 
happier days, when war was only a fairy-story 
name.” 

“ And you think I can so readily forget the 
contest, and play Lady Amiable , particularly on 
this day ?” 

“ On this day?” he repeated. 

“ Yes, on this day. The roaring of the guns 
at Perryville is, no doubt, a familiar, a pleasant 
sound to you — ” 

“You mistake,” he interrupted, but she kept 
right on, as if she had not heard him. 

“ But to me and my mother, as we sat listen- 
ing through all this long day to the thunder of 
artillery, the sound has been a torture, an agony 
as keen as that felt by the dying men lying this 
night out on yonder battle-field — ” 

“Women are always more sympathetic than 
men.” 

“Women may be as indifferent as men,” she 


210 


The Trap is Sprung. 


continued, “ when they have no interests at 
stake, no loved one in danger. But all this day 
my mother was thinking of her husband and I of 
my father. Even now, our hearts are rent with 
anxiety, for another knock at the door may be 
the messenger announcing my father’s death.” 

There was a real eloquence mingled with 
anxiety in her voice and manner as she spoke, 
and in view of the possible death of General 
Burns, who was a brave soldier and known to be 
in the Union advance, Harry found himself 
unable to make a comment. 

On his way to the house, he hoped that Dora 
would not refer to the war, but he came at a 
time when the subject filled her heart, and he 
blamed himself for yielding to the impulse to see 
her. 

“ I will not say how I should feel any misfor- 
tune that might come to you or yours, Miss 
Burns, for now that you think me capable of any 
enormity, you might not believe me. You err 
when you intimate that the men on my side are 
not as honest and earnest as on the other. But 
I called not to annoy you, nor to discuss issues 
on which we cannot agree, but to pay my 


The Trap -is Sprung. 


21 1 


respects, and to say that war has not hardened 
my heart to my old friends, no matter how radi- 
cally they and I may differ as to the contest. 
Heaven knows how quickly I would lay down 
my own life to end the struggle and to bring 
peace, with honor, to the North as well as to the 
South.” 

It was not necessary for Harry to say this to 
convince her of his sincerity. But while secretly 
admiring him for the manhood wita which he 
had sustained his convictions, she tried to con- 
vince herself that it was her duty to tear from 
her heart — no matter the pain — the last vestige 
of its once intense love for this man. 

Realizing that she had been harsh, and touched 
with pity by his bearing, she said, with a kindlier 
manner : 

“ You should not have seen me to-day, nor till 
after we have heard from my father.” 

“ When you do hear, may it be that he is safe. 
But had I waited till to-morrow, it would have 
been too late. It may bring some joy to your 
heart to know that the Confederate Army is 
leaving Kentucky, and that I go with them. 
What the future has in store for me 1 cannot 


2 I 2 


The Trap is Sprung. 


know, and do not care ; but be it what it may, 
the darkest hour would be brightened if I could 
feel that the love which I once felt was all mine 
had not turned into hate.” 

He walked to the door, laid his hand on the 
knob and stopped to look back at her. She stood 
by the table, her eyes downcast and her fingers 
toying with the pages of the book, as if she were 
only waiting for his departure to resume its 
perusal. 

“ Farewell,” he whispered. 

“Good-night, Mr. Rosser.” 

He turned and went out, and so he did not 
catch the pained, eager look that came into her 
eyes as she saw him vanish, nor see the clasped 
hands that told of the torture she had been so 
calmly inflicting on herself. 

She heard him going down the steps, and the 
fall ofliis feet on the roadway leading to the gate. 
Then she lowered the lamp, threw a shawl over 
her shoulders, for it was a cool night in early 
October, and she stole softly out to the piazza, 
and looked in the direction where she knew 
Harry’s horse was hitched. 


The Trap is Sprung. 


213 


It was a starlight night, and she could see him, 
and Harry preparing to mount. 

What was that? A whistle in the direction of 
the orchard, answered by another whistle from 
down the road. 

It was not an unusual sound. The hands often 
signaled each other in that way, but never before 
had Dora Burns been startled by a whistle. 

Up from the lawn and out from the woods she 
saw dark figures springing, and had she not been 
frozen with terror, she would have obeyed her 
impulse and shouted to Harry Rosser to fly. 

“Surrender! Surrender!” was shouted all 
around. 

Two shots rang out. She saw the dark figures 
pulling Harry Rosser from his horse, and she 
staggered back, and would have fallen had not 
the girl Sue caught her in her arms. 


214 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

IMPRISONED AS A SPY 

The attack on Harry Rosser was so sudden 
that he had not time to raise a hand before he 
was torn from the saddle. The two pistol-shots 
that Dora heard were simply signals to notify 
some one in the distance that the attack had been 
successful. 

Harry sprang to his feet, and, seeing a score or 
more armed men about him, he asked, with a 
self-possession that was in striking contrast with 
their excitement : 

“ Who are you ?” 

“ Union soldiers,” was the reply. 

“All right. I surrender. Who commands 
you ?” 

“We belong to Captain Paul Rosser’s com- 
pany,” was the reply, “but we are here with 
Lieutenant Raymond.” 

“ And where is Raymond ?” 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” said the. man, 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


215 


who proved to be a sergeant. Then, turning 
to his companions, he added : 

“ Tie his arms, boys, and put him on his horse 
again.” 

Two men came forward with a rope, and 
seized Harry’s arms. 

He indignantly shook them off, saying : 

“ I protest against this, and demand to be 
treated as a soldier and a prisoner of war.” 

“ But we don’t take you for a soldier,” said 
the sergeant. “You are found without a uni- 
form inside our lines.” 

“ What, then, do you think I am ?” asked 
Harry, an awful suspicion coming over him. 

“ You are a spy,” was the sergeant’s response. 
Then to his men : “ Come, boys, tie him and 

mount him. We must be off.” 

As resistance would have been useless, Harry 
quietly submitted to having his arms bound 
behind him. He was lifted into the saddle, and 
one of the men drew the bridle rein over the 
horse’s head and led him away, the others 
shouldering their carbines and marching with 
the prisoner in their midst. 

Harry looked about to see if Ovy was near, 


2 1 6 Imprisoned as a Spy. 

but, to his great surprise, the black boy was 
gone. 

About a half mile down the road, the party 
came to a halt, and an officer, who was one of 
a group of men standing near where the troop- 
ers had left their horses, advanced, and asked : 

“ Is it all right, Sergeant ?” 

“ All right, sir ; got him fast,” said the ser- 
geant. 

Harry did not need to be told who the officer 
was. He knew Howard Raymond by his voice. 

Advancing to Harry, Raymond said : 

“ And so we have got you at last.” 

•“ Give yourself no credit for that,” said Harry. 

“ Do )^ou remember when we met near here 
more than a year ago, Mr. Rosser ?” 

“Very well; you told me that you would 
meet me on the battle-field ; but, if I am not mis- 
informed, you have kept your carcass out of dan- 
ger, as I said you would,” said Harry, defiantly. 

“ I shall not bandy words with a spy,” said 
Raymond, his voice trembling with anger. “You 
will find the end of a rope about your neck before 
many days — ” 

“Ah!- you have turned hangman, eh ? Well, 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


2 i 7 


Raymond, I did think you would find your level 
some day, but I hardly expected it so soon.” 

A laugh from some of the soldiers showed that 
they enjoyed this retort. They were under 
Raymond’s orders for the night only, and, being 
veterans, they had a contempt for the men who, 
no matter how essential the service, were filling 
what they called “ soft places.” 

Choking with anger, Raymond ordered the 
men to mount and move forward, and they 
obeyed with the promptness of trained troopers. 

“Where are you taking me to?” asked Harry 
of the sergeant, who kept by his side. 

“ We are going over the Kentucky River 
to-night,” said the man. 

“ And after that?” 

“Well, if the enemy keeps falling back, as I 
reckon he will, we’ll push on to Camp Dick 
Robinson in the morning,” said the man. 

Harry lapsed into silence, and made a quiet 
but desperate effort to free his hands, not so 
much with the hope of escaping as to relieve 
the painful and cramped position in which he 
was forced to ride. Instead of freeing himself, 


2 T 8 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


he tightened still more the rope that tied him, 
and so added to his pain. 

The troopers kept out of the highways ; they 
were evidently familiar with the country, and 
soon after midnight they went into camp not 
far from the Harrodsburg ferry ; but they lit no 
fire. 

Howard Raymond did not come with the 
party, and so the sergeant was in command. 

That subaltern said to Harry, as he helped him 
to dismount : 

“ I’ve got no fancy for treating a prisoner this 
way, but it’s Lieutenant Raymond’s order; how- 
ever, I’m in command about this time, and if 
you’ll pledge me your word that you won’t try 
to make a break for it, I’ll free you from the 
rope.” 

“ I will pledge my word not to escape while I 
am in your charge,” said Harry. 

Without another word, the sergeant untied the 
rope, and leaving the prisoner at the foot of a 
tree, went off to inspect the guards, who had been 
posted about the camp. 

Here, within a few miles of his own home, 
Harry was kept for forty-eight hours, being 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


219 


treated by the sergeant in a soldierly way. At 
the end of that time, a messenger came with the 
news that Bragg and Kirby Smith were in full 
retreat, and an order for the sergeant to take the 
prisoner to Camp Dick Robinson at once. 

At the camp, Harry found a large number of 
Confederate prisoners assembled, but he was 
carefully kept from them and confined in a log- 
house, about which guards were stationed. He 
had been in this cheerless place but a few 
minutes when Howard Raymond, in full uni- 
form, and with a brand-new sword belted to his 
waist, came in. 

Taking a blank book and a lead pencil from 
his pocket, Raymond asked, with an intonation 
of contempt : 

“ What is your name, sir ?” 

“ Harry Rosser,” replied the prisoner, without 
looking up. 

“ Your age?” 

“ Twenty -three.” 

“ Where born ?” 

“ Kentucky.” This was said with pride ; and 
Raymond moistened his pencil and went on 
writing. 


220 


Imprisoned as a Spy 


“ Been in the rebel army ?” 

“ The Confederate Army,” said Harry, quickly. 

“ What command ?” 

“ Morgan’s.” 

“ How came you to be inside the Union lines 
in citizens’ dress?” 

Now Raymond looked at the prisoner with a 
glow of hate and triumph in his eyes. 

Before I answer that question, let me ask 
you one,” said Harry, well aware of the other’s 
purpose. 

“ Go on, sir,” said Raymond. 

“ Are you a drum-head court-martial, detailed 
to try and execute me ; for if so, I must beg you 
to do your work without more delay. It will be 
congenial, for 1 am unarmed, and can’t hurt 
you.” 

“ Sir, you are charged with being a spy,” said 
Raymond, loftily. “ For the sake of your family, 
I hoped that you might be able to offer an excuse 
which I could plead in your defence. As you 
refuse to do so, I must let the proceedings and 
charges and consequences take their course.” 

“ Yes, General , 1 think you had better. Bur- 
dened as you are with all the cares of the Fed- 


( 


Inipriso 7 ied as a Spy. 2 2 1 

eral Army, I wonder that you found time to 
give me a thought.” 

Harry laughed as he said this, and, with his 
sword clanking on the ground and his gold lace 
flashing in the sun, Raymond left the cabin. 

He had been gone only a few minutes, when 
Harry heard a man outside talking to the guard 
stationed before the door. The voice was famil- 
iar, but he could not recall where he had heard 
it before. 

After what seemed to be a debate, he heard 
the guard, who was an Irishman, saying : 

“Well, Cap’in, sorra wan av me km read or 
roit, so I can’t gainsay that the ordher’s not what 
yer riprisintin’ it to be ; so go ’long in an’ see 
the prezner.” 

“ If he’s the man 1 think he is, him an’ me’s ole 
friends.” 

As these words were uttered, the door of the 
cabin became darkened by the entering form of 
a man in uniform. 

The lithe figure, keen eyes and heavy, dark 
beard stamped the man as a character. 

“ Wal,” he said, as he sat down on the head of 


222 


Imprisoned as a Spy . 


an empty barrel, facing Harry, “ you ’pear to ’ve 
forgot me.” 

“ I have seen you before,” said Harry, scan- 
ning the man eagerly, “ but I cannot recall your 
name,” 

“ Ever hear of a man named Dick Herd, as 
has a brother Lishe ?” 

“Of the Cumberland hills?” cried Harry. 

“ The same,” replied Dick Herd ; “ thought 
you’d remember me. Mighty sharp trick that 
was, your gittin’ off in the night. If you’d ’a’ 
staid, some of the boys would gone ’long with 
you, for they was kinder leanin’ that way at that 
time.” 

Dick Herd lowered his voice with the last 
sentence, and motioned in the direction of the 
door, to intimate that he did not want the guard 
to overhear. 

“ And you are now in the Federal Army ?” 
said Harry. 

“ Yes; you see, jest ’bout this time the Yanks 
is atop. Some of the boys over our way hung on 
to Bragg till he began to git back, an’ they made 
right smart out of it too — ” 

“ And where are they now ?” 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


223 


“ They’ve skeedaddled to the hills for a rest 
an’ to git »a change of clothes,” chuckled Dick 
Herd. 

“ And you are a Union officer now ?” 

“ Oh, yes. I got a commish to raise an inde- 
pendent rifle compiny, an’ kinder scout round 
on my own hook.” 

“ And your brother Lishe, where is he?” asked 
Harry. 

“Lishe? Oh, yes. Wal, Lishe, he got a com- 
mish on the other side — ” 

“ And you are divided,” said Harry, recalling 
his own case, and forgetting the peculiar patriot- 
ism of this man. 

Dick Herd evidently misunderstood him, for 
he said : 

“ Oh, yes, that’s all right. Lishe an’ me divides 
up everything we git, fa’r an’ squar. We won’t 
lose a great deal by the scrimmage,” and he shut 
his eyes and shook his head and laughed with a 
great sense of enjoyment. 

Harry could make no comment. The con- 
scienceless audacity of the mountaineer made 
him speechless. 

“ I seed you when you was brought in,” Dick 


Imprisoned as a Spy. 


224 

Herd continued, “ an’ I knowed you right off. 
Some one said as how you was a sp.y, and that 
they’d string you up to-morrow or next day, so I 
thought I’d come round an’ see if I could do 
anything for you. I don’t store no ill-will coz 
you lit out that time.” 

“ That is very generous, I am sure. But, per- 
haps, you can enlighten me — ” 

“ ‘ ’Lighten ;’ what’s that ?” 

“ Answer a question.” 

“ Let’s have it.” 

“ Can you tell me any thing of General 
Burns?” 

“ Of Kaintuck ?” 

“ The same.” 

“ Reckon I can.” 

“ What of him ?” 

“ He was toted home yesterday.’ 

“ Wounded ?” 

“Yes; hit in the head, an’ knocked senseless, 
over at Perryville — ” 

“ Dangerously hurt?” 

“ Wal, he mout be, an’ then again he moutn’t. 
The doctors allow that he’ll be either dead or 


Great Excitement. 


225 


round ag’in before the moon’s in the full. Would 
you take a drink of good commissary whiskey?” 

Harry declined the flask produced by the 
mountaineer, who went out soon after, promising 
to call again soon. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

OVY CREATES GREAT EXCITEMENT. 

The horsemen rode away with Harry Rosser 
in their midst, and Dora Burns, supported by 
Sue, looked through the darkness till the dusky 
figures vanished, and listened till the tramp of 
the men died out down the road. 

“ It do ’pear to me powahful like’s ef Mauss 
Harry Rosser he done got into a right smout o’ 
trouble,” said Sue, when her young mistress 
straightened up with an effort, and asked : 

“ What has happened ?” 

Before either could speak again, a short, stout 
figure leaped on the piazza, and Sue screamed 
and clung to her young mistress. 


226 


Great Excitement. 


“ Don’t be skeert,” said the figure; '‘it’s me.” 

“ Who are you ?” asked Dora. 

“ Ize Ovy.” 

“ From Rosser’s ?” 

‘"Yes, Miss Dory, Ize Mauss Harry’s boy,” 
he gasped. 

“And your master?” she asked. 

“ He’s a prezner. 

“ Who commanded those troops?” 

“Dunno, Miss, but Mauss Harry’s got into a 
heap sight ob trouble, an’ Ize gwine to let de 
folks know all ’bout it. Mauss Paul, he’s a Yan- 
kee — just like you, Miss, an’ he’ll make ’em let 
his brudder, w’at’s Confederit, go mighty soon.” 

And with the last word, Ovy ran off to where 
his horse was concealed, and, mounting, galloped 
for the Rosser homestead, as if his life depended 
on his speed. 

“Miss Dory.” 

“ What is it, Sue ?” 

“ Know w’at I t’inks ? 

“ No.” 

“ I t’inks he’s at de bottom ob dis yar trouble.” 

“ What trouble, Sue ?” 

“Toter’n’ off Mauss Harry.’’ 


Great Excitement . 


227 


“ And who is at the bottom of it?’' 

“ Can’t yeh guess, Miss Dory?” 

“ I shall not try.” 

“ An’ yeh won’t be mad if so be I speaks my 
mind ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Den I’ll say dat w’en yeh comes to git right 
down to de truf ob de case, yeh’ll fine Mauss 
Howard Raymond, he ain’t done got far away.” 

Mrs. Burns at this juncture came to the door 
and asked why Dora was waiting outside. 

For reply, Dora said, as she entered the house: 

“ Harry Rosser is a prisoner.” 

Her mother looked at her in amazement, and 
then feeling that she must make some comment, 
she said : 

“ If he had kept by his chosen friends, instead 
of coming here, he wouldn’t have got into 
trouble.” 

Meanwhile, Ovy galloped with all speed to his 
old home. It was yet some hours before mid- 
night, and as he dismounted near the stable, he 
met his father, Uncle Eph. 

“ Wha — whar’s Mauss Harry ?” demanded 
Uncle Eph. 


228 


Great Excitement. 


“ Gone !” exclaimed Ovy. 

“ Gone, whar ?” 

“ Wif de Yankees.” 

“ Ovy, Ovy, yez a tryin’ to fool yer fadder,” 
said Uncle Eph, with much dignity. “ Don’t do 
it no moah, or dar’ll be a powah sight ob trubble 
on yer mind afoah yeh know it.” 

To prove that he meant no disrespect to his 
father, Ovy at once told his story, and the earn- 
estness of his manner banished all his father’s 
doubts. 

“ Oh, Golly !” sighed Uncle Eph, “ we was all 
happy afore dem Yankees an’ dem rebels come 
foolin’ round har an’ a-leadin’ de young mastahs 
astray ; now it’s all tribulation an’ soreness ob 
sperrit. W’at will missus say ? I’ll see yer 
mudder, Ovy, an’ git her to break de news, foh I 
can’t do it; no, sah, I can’t do it.” 

Uncle Eph and his son ran to the house and 
told Aunt Marfa, and the kind-hearted cook, on 
hearing the news, gave way to tears, and ex- 
pressed, as her earnest belief, the awful fact that 
the general conflagration of the earth and all its 
people could not possibly be postponed more 
than four weeks. 


Great Excitement . 


229 


When she had sufficiently recovered, she took 
Ovy’s hand and led him over to the house and 
into the presence of Mrs. Rosser and Clara. 

Mrs. Rosser, on seeing the boy, believed that 
Harry had returned, but this hope was killed as 
soon as born by Aunt Marfa’s order to her son 
to— 

“ Go right on, an’ tell missis de truf.” 

With much stammering, Ovy told the story. 

Paul was in his room lying down ; he was feel- 
ing very much better since his brother’s visit, 
and his mother made up her mind that he should 
not know of Harry’s troubles unless his influence 
and advice became necessary. 

“If he is a prisoner,” said Mrs. Rosser, “ he 
can be in no immediate danger. I will see about 
it in the morning, Ovy.” 

The black boy and his mother went out, won- 
dering that their mistress should take so coolly 
what they thought to be an awful calamity. 

“ Don’t you think, Clara,” asked Mrs. Rosser, 
when -they were alone, “that Harry, as a pris- 
oner, will be properly cared for ?” 

“ He certainly will be, if they let us see him 
and allow us to supply his wants,” said Clara. 


230 


Great Excitement . 


“ But they let prisoners write to their friends ?” 

“ I believe they do.” 

“ Then Harry will write to us at once, and we 
can go to his assistance.” 

“ And you think, mother, that it would be well 
not to say anything to* Paul about it?” 

“We must think about that, my child. Paul, 
for the first time in months, shows signs of a rapid 
improvement; the least shock might bring on a 
relapse. Let us wait,” said Mrs. Rosser. 

With this understanding, they visited Paul and 
his nurse before retiring for the night. 

Had they known the true state of affairs — and, 
under the circumstances, it was well that they 
did not — there would have been no sleep under 
that roof that night. 

Early the next morning, old Mr. Netly, in a 
great state of excitement, put in an appearance 
at Mrs. Rosser’s. 

In answer to Clara’s inquiry as to the cause of 
his trouble, he cried out, with much wringing of 
the hands: 

“ Georgy — Georgy is gone again !” 

“Gone?” queried Clara. 

“ Yes, gone ! They come and carried him off.” 


Great Excitement . 


231 


“ Who ?” 

“ The soldiers.” 

“ What — the Federals?” 

“ No, no, Miss Clara. Would that it was them, 
for then I could go to the prezin, and mak’ him 
take the oath and have his freedom. But he’s 
gone — he’s gone awa’ to the wars, and I much 
fear me he’ll never come back again, and the 
shock will kill his poor mither!” wailed the dis- 
tracted old man. 

“ I wish we could help you,” said Clara, pained 
to see Mr. Netly’s sufferings. 

“ Ah, Miss Clary, how can you want to help, 
when it’s you that’s been the cause of my boy’s 
downfall?” said the old man, with much bitter- 
ness in his voice. 

Clara did not ask him to explain ; she knew 
what was on his mind, and she felt a momentary 
anger at the injustice of the insinuation. 

“ If there is any one to blame for your son’s 
position — and, for one, I think it is a manly one 
—it is himself. Of all our young men, George 
Netly was the foremost in denouncing the North 
and railing against the Union. He and men like 
him are directly responsible for this terrible war, 


232 


Great Excitement . 


and it is only right that he should share its 
dangers and endure its hardships, as well as the 
brave men on both sides who were so anxious 
for peace.” 

“ Ah, Miss Clary, Miss Clary, we were all 
deceived,” said the old man, humbly. “ We 
did ’ think the Yankees were so brave and so 
strong. We didna’ dream that they’d swarm 
down here and fight, just as if they were brought 
up to arms and fond of the business.” 

“Then you thought that Paul Rosser and hun- 
dreds of thousands of men like him were cow- 
ards?” she said, without any effort to hide her 
indignation. 

“ I didna’ think at all, Miss Clary ; and Georgy 
didna’ think. If we had, we’d a kep’ our mouths 
shut, and waited till we saw how the cat jumped. 
But it’s all a muddle; and John Morgan has 
carried off my boy again, and he’s that rash that 
I’m sure he’ll never come back to me alive.” 

Clara was about to assure Mr. Netly that he 
had nothing to fear from his son’s rashness, when 
she was changed from her purpose by the 
entrance of Dora Burns. 

Seeing that the new-comer was agitated, and 


Great Excitement. 


233 


that she showed a desire to be alone with her 
friend, the disconsolate man went out, bemoan- 
ing his son as Shylock lamented his daughter. 

“ What is the matter, Dora ?” asked Clara, 
throwing her arms about the other’s neck and 
kissing her, when Mr. Netly had gone. 

“ This morning my father was brought home 
wounded. Hush, Clara ; it was thought to be 
dangerous, for he was hit in the head at Perry- 
ville, but his consciousness has returned. He is 
able to sit up, and the doctors say he will be 
himself in a few weeks — ” 

“ Oh, Dora, let us thank God for that !” cried 
Clara. 

“ But I did not come to speak about my father ; 
there is danger to another,” said Dora, in her 
quick, earnest way. 

“ To another?” echoed Clara. 

“ Yes — to Harry.” 

“ We heard he was a prisoner.” 

“ It is worse than that.” 

“ How can it be ?” asked the startled Clara. 

“ They are waiting for Bragg to get back — he 
is away now— and then they will take Harry to 
Camp Dick Robinson.” 


234 


The Trial. 


“ Is that unusual ?” 

“ If he was a regular prisoner, they would have 
paroled him, or taken him to Camp Chase/’ 

“ But is he not a regular prisoner?” 

“ No ; a messenger came to us this morning, 
saying he was charged with being a spy.” 

“ A spy !” cried Clara. 

“ Yes, a spy. The charge is false, but that will 
not save him from death. We must act for him,” 
said Dora, with unmistakable decision. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE TRIAL. 

That Harry Rosser was a brave man, brave 
even to rashness, has already been demonstrated ; 
but when he came calmly to consider, in the soli- 
tude of that log-cabin, that he was a prisoner 
charged with being a spy, he shuddered at the 
consequences. 

In the Southern Army he had seen men hung 
as spies on evidence, unreliable, perhaps, but on 


The Trial. 


235 


the face of it not so strong as that which could 
be brought against himself. 

He thought the situation over carefully, and he 
appreciated the full force of the charges that 
could and would be brought against him by his 
enemy, Raymond, and his own inability to refute 
them. 

He was known to be a Confederate soldier, yet 
he was captured inside the Union lines disguised 
as a citizen. 

He could truthfully urge that he had assumed 
this dress in order to save his mother’s feelings ; 
but he knew only too well that no court-martial 
would accept such a plea as valid. There is no 
sentiment in actual war ; the sentiment lies in its 
impelling motives. 

Cooked foc)d and blankets were brought to 
Harry, but his visitors refused to talk with him 
about the situation. 

Just about dusk, a young man with his arm in 
a sling, and dressed in the uniform of a cavalry 
sergeant, came into the cabin and introduced 
himself in this way : 

“ My name ’s Sam Martin. Do you know me, 
Cap’n ?” 


236 


The TriaL 


“ I have not that honor,” said Harry, trying to 
make out the man’s face. 

“Wa-al, I’m ridgenally from East Tennessee, 
down Powell’s valley way, an’ you took me 
prezner down nigh to Mill Springs, the night 
afore we walloped you so. But I lit out 
unbeknownst to you. Now do you recall me?” 

Sam reached out his unwounded hand, and, as 
Harry took it, he said : 

“Yes, I remember you very well; you 
belonged to my brother’s command.” 

“ I did that, and if it hadn’t been for Cap’n 
Paul Rosser’s jumpin’ before the guns, they’d ’a’ 
blowed you an’ the darkey to the bottom of the 
Cumberland, when you was makin’ off in that 
sharpy. Didn’t know you was so near goin’ 
up then, did you ?” 

Harry expressed surprise, and said that he had 
seen his brother a few days before, and that he 
had said nothing about the incident. 

“ Captain Paul don’t brag,” said Sam Martin, 
“ but it is safe to tie to him right straight along. 
It’s a blamed pity you an’ him ain’t totin’ at the 
same ind of the log ; but then Pve got two uncles 
an’ no ind of cousins on the other side, an’ I ain’t 


The Trial. 


2 37 


got no perticklar hard feelin’s ag’in’ ’em, either. 
But tell me all ’bout Cap’n Paul. Ain’t seed 
him sence he went down in the charge on Shiloh 
hill, but I’ve heern from him right smart, an’ me 
an’ all the boys is fairly achin’ to git him back. 
You see, I got in the way over at Chaplin Crik, 
but I ain’t agoin’ to no hospital just for a bullet 
through my arm, and a pistol bullet at that.” 

Harry told about his brother, and delighted 
Sam Martin by saying : 

“ The doctors think that if my brother keeps 
on improving, he will, be able to ride in a month 
or so.” 

Sam expressed great delight at this, and then 
with a seriousness of manner, that seemed foreign 
to his nature, he said : 

“ Your brother thought a heap of you ; many 
an’ many a time as we was ridin’ along, he’d be 
wonderin’ whar you was an’ a-hopin’ you was 
safe. But I say, Cap’n ?” 

“ What is it, Sergeant?” 

“ Does yer brother know the fix yer in now ?” 

“ I do not know.” 

“ I hope he don’t, for if he did, it’d be most sure 
to give him a right smart set-back.” 


238 


The Trial. 


“ Why, is may case so bad ?” asked Harry. 

“ Wa-al, ’cordin’ to the stories in camp, it 
couldn’t be worse. They say that there’s a 
feller named Raymond — you know him, I 
reckin ?” 

“ Only too well, Sergeant.” 

“ He’s down on you. He sez yer a spy ; an’ 
to-morrer they are goin’ to sit onto yer case.” 

“ Going to try me, eh ?” 

“ Yes, that’s ’bout the size of it. But I don’t 
see why they should have any trial.” 

“Why not, Sergeant ?” 

“ Because Raymond an’ his crowd is plum sure 
they have the dead wood onto yer. The job’s 
all set up, an’ I don’t see how you can well git 
out of it, seein’ you have only yerself to dipind 
on.” 

“ Are any of my brother’s men here besides 
yourself ?” 

“ Yes ; a right smart showin’ of ’em.” 

“ And do they believe that their old command- 
er’s brother could be a spy.” 

“ Wa-al, I won’t say as to that, for our crowd 
don’t think spyin’ is so all-fired bad, if anythin’s 
to be made out of it ; but they do feel kinder cut 


The . Trial. 


239 


up at the thought that their captain’s brother 
may be hanged to-morrow or next day. I sup- 
pose it don’t much matter how a feller dies, if 
so be he’s ’bleeged to go ; but you’ll allow yer- 
self, thar’s a kinder prejudice ag’in’ bein’ hung,” 
said Sam Martin. 

Harry did “ allow ” this without debate, and 
conceiving a favorable impression of his visitor, 
he sounded him as to the chances for escape. 

Sam Martin refused to understand him, or did 
not care to commit himself, but when he went 
out, he shook hands with Harry, and promised 
to do all he could for “ the cap’in’s brother.” 

Harry tried to look at the situation from a 
philosophical stand-point ; but he found it hard 
to bring his feelings into harmony with his rea- 
son, and so he remained sleepless during the 
long night. 

After breakfast the next morning, a young 
officer, at the head of a guard, entered the cabin, 
and said : 

“ Harry Rosser, 1 have come to take you 
before a court-martial, summoned this morning 
to hear your case.” 

“ Why should a prisoner of war be subjected 


240 


The Trial , 


to this indignity ?” asked Harry, as he rose to 
accompany the officer. 

“ If we thought you a prisoner of war," was 
the response, “ we should treat you as such.” 

“ Then what do you think me?” 

“ I have given no thought to the matter. Cap- 
tain Raymond has the charges, and he is confi- 
dent that he can prove you are a spy. But it is 
not my place to discuss this with you. Come ; I 
hope, for your brother's sake, you may be able 
to prove your innocence,” said the officer. 

Harry straightened up and walked out, and, 
surrounded by the guard, he was marched 
through the camp. 

There were the remnants of many regiments 
here at this time, and as the prisoner went down 
to the large tent in which the court was assem- 
bled, the soldiers made a lane for him to march 
through, and to their credit be it said that, 
while there were many expressions of pity for 
his condition, and much admiration of his 
appearance, not^a jeer nor an unkind word was 
uttered. 

Harry entered the tent in company with the 


The Trial . 


241 


lieutenant, while the guard formed about it out- 
side. 

On either side of a long table were a number 
of officers in full uniform, all of whom turned to 
look at the prisoner as he entered. 

A camp-stool was placed for Harry at the 
foot of the table ; an elderly man, with a colonel's 
shoulder-straps, called the meeting to order, 
and then announced, formally, to his associates, 
that they were assembled to try, on the charge 
of being a spy, “ one calling himself Harry 
Rosser, and claiming to be a Kentuckian and a 
member of John H. Morgan’s command in the 
army of the Confederacy, so called.”* 

The charge was read, and Harry was asked 
how he pleaded ; and he replied, with prompt- 
ness and spirit : 

“ Not guilty !” 

He was asked to select some officer to defend 
his case, and he said, in response : 

“ I thank you, gentlemen ; but the truth should 
need no defense. I presume I am free to cross- 
question any witnesses you may produce, and am 
also at liberty to testify in my own behalf ?“ 

“ Certainly,” replied the president of the court. 


242 


The Trial. 


Drum-head courts-martial are usually very 
quick and informal affairs, and as the case is gen- 
erally decided in advance, they might be abol- 
ished, for all the use they are. 

Howard Raymond was the first and only wit- 
ness for the prosecution, though he stated that 
he had a dozen men ready to corroborate his 
evidence. 

He spoke of the prisoners bitterness to the 
Union cause in the past, and stated that there 
were men then in camp who would swear that 
Harry Rosser had tried to induce the Union men 
in the Cumberland Mountains to become guer- 
rillas. 

While Raymond was saying this, Dick Herd 
entered the tent and took a position where the 
prisoner could see him. 

All the facts preceding and leading up to the 
capture were narrated, and then Harry was told 
he might question the witness. 

His first thought was to bring out the fact 
that since long before the war Howard Ray- 
mond had been his enemy and his rival, but on 
the instant he saw that he could not do this with- 


The Trial. 


243 


out dragging in the name of the woman he 
loved ; so he abandoned it, and said : 

“ I shall ask no questions, but will depend on 
my own statement and my own explanation to 
refute chis man’s malicious perjury.” 

Raymond, on hearing this, turned pale, and 
the officers coughed and moved uneasily on 
their camp-stools. 

In a straightforward way, Harry told of how 
he entered the Southern Army, and what he had 
done since - . 

He spoke about his love for his mother and 
his brother, and truthfully explained the change 
of dress. This done, he eloquently appealed for 
justice to the gallant men who had assembled 
to try him. 

After this speech, he refused to be questioned, 
fearing that Dora’s name would be brought in, 
and he was taken back to the cabin by the guard. 

He had been there about half an hour, when 
the young officer who had brought him back 
returned, looking very nervous and holding a 
paper in his hand. 

“ I am ordered by the court,” he said, “ to 
announce to you their findings.” 


2 44 


Strange Arrivals. 


“ What are they ?” asked Harry. 

“ That you are guilty of the charge, and shall 
suffer death by hanging at daylight to-morrow 
morning,” said the officer. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

STRANGE ARRIVALS IN CAMP. 

V They have certainly been prompt in their 
verdict,” said Harry, with bitterness. “ They 
could have come to the same conclusion with- 
out a trial, for their minds were already made 
up.” 

“ From my heart 1 sympathize with you,” said 
the young officer who had brought the awful 
message. “ I heard your evidence in your own 
behalf, and I believe it ; but you unconsciously 
do an injustice to the gentlemen composing that 
court.” 

“ They were all against me.” 

“ Could you expect them to be for you ?** 

“ Perhaps not ; they are enemies.” 


Strange Arrivals. 


245 


“ No, Captain Rosser, the soldiers of opposing 
armies are only enemies when they meet under 
their respective banners with arms in their hands. 
But look at the situation.” 

“ It is pretty black,” sighed Harry. 

“ Truly it is to you, and I am sorry for it. But 
reverse the situation, and let me be within your 
lines and in the same situation, you would say the 
case was against me?” 

“ On the face of it, yes ; but to be condemned 
by such a tribunal does not imply guilt.” 

“ But it carries with it the punishment that 
attaches to guilt. Ah, war is terribly cruel !” 
said the young officer ; then he added, with a 
sigh : “ But we are into it, and there is nothing 
left but to keep on to the end.” 

“ That is all,” said Harry. “ I could wish to 
see the end, or to die like a man and not like a 
dog.” 

“ If there is anything I can do for you,” said 
the lieutenant, halting at the door, “ command 
me.” 

“ If you would bring me writing materials, and 
afterward see that some letters are forwarded to 


246 


Strange Arrivals . 


my friends, I should esteem it a favor,” said 
Harry. 

Promising to comply with this request, the 
young officer went out, leaving Harry alone in 
the dingy cabin. 

In a very few minutes an orderly came in with 
writing materials and a little camp-table, saying 
that Lieutenant Moberly had sent him. 

It was a great relief to Harry to get a pen into 
his hand. It made him forget himself in think- 
ing about others; and much of life’s happiness 
depends on forgetting ourselves. 

He wrote to his mother and to Paul and 
Clara, and, after some hesitation, he wrote to 
Dora Burns. 

He believed that she had changed, but he knew 
there was no change in himself. 

Just about noon, he heard one of the guards 
talking sharply to some one outside, and while he 
was trying to catch the words, a dark figure 
bounded into the cabin, and before Harry could 
realize the situation, Ovy had his arms about 
him, and he was crying as if his heart would 
break. 

“ Why, Ovy, old fellow,” said Harry, huskily, 


Strange Arrivals. 


247 


“ I — I thought we had parted company for good 
the other night.” 

“ No*, sah ; no, Mauss Harry !” cried Ovy. “ I 
was ’bleeged to find you. If I'd ’a’ staid back 
dar arter our sojers left — an’ you away, too — w’y, 
sah, it’d ’a’ kilt me.” 

“ And so you ran away from home ?” 

“ No, sah ; jest left.” 

“ And how are Paul and mother, and Miss 
Clara ?” 

“ Undah the sahcumstances, dey’s as well as 
can be ’spected. But last night ole Miss — I’d 
told ’em you was a personer — got word that you 
was ober har at de Yankee camp, an’ dat you was 
in a kinder bad fix.” 

“ And what did she say, Ovy ?” 

“ Wa-al, sah, she was powahful bad cut up, an’ 
so was Miss Dory — ” 

“ Miss Dora?” 

“ Yes, sah, dat’s de young lady.” 

“ And she was there, Ovy, when the news 
came ?” 

“ No, Mauss Harry, not dat way.” 

“ How was it, then?” 


Strange Arrivals. 


24^ 


“ It was Miss Dory w’at fotched cle news,” said 
Ovy, with great earnestness. 

“ Then she is still my friend,” said 'Harry, 
thinking aloud. 

Ovy thought the remark was addressed to 
himself, and as he had a pretty good knowledge 
of the relations of these young people, he pro- 
ceeded with much promptness to give his 
opinion. 

“ Mauss Harry, you may say foh shuah an’ 
cert’in, Miss Dory Burns she’s your friend, sah. 
Dar ain’t no diffahnise atween you two, sah — 
except de wah.” 

From the way in which Ovy uttered the last 
three words, it was evident that he did not con- 
sider — certainly not for the moment — the war a 
very serious difficulty. 

“ Well, Ovy, 1 am in a great deal of trouble 
here. Raymond has sworn to a lie, and I am 
afraid it is going hard with me,” said Harry. 

“ I nebber did hab no use foh dat man Mistah 
Raymond, no how,” said Ovy, with as much con- 
tempt as it was possible for him to assume. “ I 
seed him back dar in dis yar camp a-struttin’ 


v ■ *■ ' 


Strange Arrivals. 249 

roun’ an’ a-puttin’ on more airs ’n a three-year-old 
at a fall fair. But, Mauss Harry !” 

“ What is that, Ovy ?” 

“ Yeh doesn’t feel like gibben up, does yeh?” 

“ I don’t see anything that I can do, Ovy.” 

“Wa-al, sah, yeh kin jest keep on a-hopin’, 
can’t yeh ?” 

“ I am afraid there is not much use in that ; 
however, I am glad that you have come to me, 
Ovy, for I must confess I was feeling a bit 
lonely,” said Harry. 

Ovy sat stroking his black brow in silence for 
some time, then looking suddenly up, as if struck 
with a bright idea, he said : 

“ Mauss Harry, Ize jest been thinkin’.” 

“ What about, Ovy.” 

“ Dat I’d go to one ob dem big Yankee sojers 
an’ say it was all my blame, an’ dat I wanted to 
take your place an’ let you go free.” 

This was said with much seriousness, and 
Harry laughed at the suggestion ; but the mois- 
ture in his brave, brown eyes was not caused by 
merriment. 

He gave Ovy the letters he had written — they 
were not sealed — and told him to take them to 


2 5 ° 


Strange Arrivals. 


the post-adjutant, with the request to have them 
forwarded at once. 

Ovy went out, and, as he still wore the gray 
uniform coat with its labyrinths of rusty lace, he 
at once became the butt of the hundreds of idle 
soldiers in camp. 

They called him “ General,” asked him “ why 
he wasn’t with his command,” and expressed a 
curiosity to-know where he had been “ smoked,” 
and “ who cut his coat.” 

But the banter fell on Ovy’s ears without 
rousing his anger ; indeed, he rather enjoyed the 
prominence in which he suddenly found himself ; 
and to the infinite amazement of the soldiers, he 
called them “a dog-goned lot of Yankees,” and 
gave it as his ardent hope and belief that, in the 
very next fight those men got into, they would 
all be captured and treated as spies. 

“ We Confederates,” he shouted, “ kin play dat 
spy game jist as well as de Yanks, ef it comes 
down to dat; an’ we’ll do it ! See if we don’t.” 

Sam Martin put in a timely appearance, and 
rescued Ovy from the mischievous soldiers, and 
led him to the tent of the colonel commanding 
the camp. 


Strange Arrivals . 


251 


This officer’s quarters were not far from the 
cabin in which Harry Rosser was confined, and 
a guard before the door barred the entrance of 
Sam Martin and Ovy. 

“ There are two ladies in there, talking to 
Colonel Clarke,” said the guard. “ You must 
wait till they get through.” 

The voices of the ladies inside could be heard ; 
Ovy certainly heard and recognized them, for 
before the soldier could interfere, he uttered a 
glad cry, and shot into the tent, as if he had been 
fired from a gun. 

The ladies were Mrs. Rosser and Dora Burns. 

Mrs. Rosser, very pale and calm, was sitting 
down ; and Dora, flushed and excited, was stand- 
ing up, while the handsome young colonel, with 
admiration in his eyes, listened to his general’9 
daughter. 

The sudden entrance of Ovy put a stop to the 
talk, but, unheeding this, he shouted out : 

“ Oh, golly ! Missis an’ Miss Dory ! Ize 
powahful glad yous bofe heah. I’ve done seed 
Mauss Harry, an’ he ain’t no moah a spy ’n you 
an’ me is. He jest looks de same. No change ; 
no nuffin.” 


252 


Strange Arrivals. 


It was evident from this that Ovy imagined 
that to turn spy must necessarily effect some 
great change in a man’s appearance. 

Mrs. Rosser did not know that the boy had 
left home and come on before her. She showed 
no surprise on seeing him, but said, in the quiet, 
well-bred way that distinguished all her acts : 

“ Please to wait outside, Ovy, till we are 
through here.” 

“ Sartin, missy ; sartin,” said Ovy ; and he 
waved his cap and backed out with ludicrous 
courtesy. 

Dora was putting a question to the young 
colonel when Ovy broke in, and when he had 
gone, she renewed it. 

“ Now, Colonel Clarke,” she continued, in her 
earnest, forceful way, “ you say you know Cap- 
tain Paul Rosser?” 

“ Yes, Miss Burns ; I have that honor. But 
since his well-earned promotion, we call him 
‘ Major Rosser,’ ” said the colonel. 

Without heeding the correction, Dora went 
on : 






“ And you believe Paul Rosser is a gentle- 
man ?” 


Strange Arrivals . 


253 


“ Surely, Miss Burns — a gallant and an accom- 
plished gentleman,” said the colonel, with a per- 
plexed manner, for he was at a loss to account 
for her question. 

“ Harry Rosser,” said Dora, “ is his brother’s 
equal in everything ; there were never two men 
more alike till the war tore them apart. But I 
ask you as a soldier, Colonel Clarke, if fighting 
honestly on the side of the South, as Harry 
Rosser does, debars him from remaining a gen- 
tleman?” 

“ Not at all, Miss Burns. I have kinsmen, 
friends and school-mates fighting against me, as 
nearly every man of family in southern Ohio has, 
and I should resent any intimation that they were 
not gentlemen. Of course, I deplore their con- 
duct, and I shall fight against them to the end ; 
but if the war were to close next week or in the 
next decade, I should gladly meet them with all 
the old respect and regard,” said Colonel Clarke, 
his bronzed cheeks flushing with earnestness. 

“ I have deplored my son Harry’s course,” said 
Mrs. Rosser, speaking to the colonel for the first 
time. “ But it has not weakened my love for 
him. As a son, the boy who chose the gray is 


254 


Strange Arrivals. 


just as dear to me as the one who wears the 
blue, and n uther of them could be guilty of an 
act that did not become a soldier and a gentle- 
man.” 

“Yes,” added Dora, “that is the exact case; 
but granting that there might be a shadow of 
truth in the charges against Harry Rosser, 
which there is not, does the conduct of his brother 
and the devotion of his mother to the cause of 
the Union, count for nothing ?” 

“ I regret to say, Miss Burns, that it does not. 
But let me explain my own situation, and it is 
now so unpleasant, that much as I dislike fight- 
ing, I should much prefer to be constantly under 
fire to being in command of this camp. As a 
soldier, I have a duty to perform, and I have no 
choice about it ; that duty is to carry out to the 
letter the findings of the court in the case of this 
unfortunate young man,” said the colonel. 

Mrs. Rosser grew paler, and for a minute Dora 
was speechless. When she could get her feel- 
ings under control, she asked : 

“ Who can reverse the decision of this court ?” 

“There is only one earthly power,” said the 
colonel. 










“A Thinking Cap . 


255 


“ Where is that ?” 

“ In Washington.” 

“ Who is it ?” 

“ The President, Miss Burns, and I fear no 
appeal could reach him in time.” 

“We must see about that at once,” said Dora, 
and she turned and walked hurriedly out of the 
tent. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

SAM MARTIN PUTS ON “ A THINKING CAP.” 

With the great majority of the men and offi- 
cers in Camp Dick Robinson at that time, the 
findings of the court convened to try Harry 
Rosser met with no favor. 

All knew Paul Rosser, or knew of him, and 
very many had seen Harry and were favorably 
impressed with his appearance. The charges 
were not believed, but, even if they were true, 
the general impression was that the prisoner 
was only a little more daring than his associates, 


256 


“A Thinking Cap." 


and among genuine soldiers there is ever a high 
respect for individual courage, whether shown 
by a friend or a foe. 

There were two men, however, who differed 
radically from the others ; these were Howard 
Raymond and Dick Herd. 

Immediately after the trial, Raymond made 
preparations to return to Lexington, for he was 
sure that before another day went past, his 
rival would be forever out of the way. 

He was about to mount his horse, when Dick 
Herd approached him, and drawing him to one 
side, said : 

“ See har, Cap ; do you know what I think ?” 

“ I do not,” was the reply. 

“It’s my firm belief that this har feller, Ros- 
ser, has some friends in this camp/’ said Dick 
Herd, after looking about him to make sure 
that no one else was within hearing. 

“ I don’t care if he has,” said Raymond. 

“ But he’s a spy, and you want him to swing, 
don’t you ?” 

“Yes, I do,” snapped Raymond. 

“Then you’d better hang back har till the 
job’s over.” 


SEE HAH, CAP’; DO YOU KNOW'VWHAT „1 THINK \?” — See Page 256/ 









“A Thinking Cap . 


257 


“ Why so ?” 

“ Why so ? Kase thar’s some of Major Paul 
Rosser’s men har, and a mighty heap more that 
feels like ’em.” 

“ How is that ?” . 

“ Why, they won’t stand by and see him hung, 
that’s all.” 

“ How can they help it ?” 

“ Wal, they kin let him escape to-night.” 

“ Escape 1” exclaimed Raymond. 

“ Yes, that’s the size of it; an’ it’s my belief 
that Colonel Clarke an’ most of the officers would 
wink at it. But I have a plan that I think will 
work.” 

“ What is that, Herd ?” 

“ 1 can tie to my boys, I know that ; they’re all 
Cumberland Mounting men, an* you can’t fool 
’em ; but, then, they like money, an’ if you could 
let me have a couple of hundred, just so that they 
can have a good drink all round, I’ll have more 
than the reg’lar guard ’bout that cabin to-night, 
an’ you can bet thar won’t be no prezner absent 
when the roll-call is made for the hangin’ in the 
mornin’.” 

Even to Raymond, mean and ignoble though 


“A Thinking Cap . 


258 

he was, this was a startling offer. To be sure, 
he did not know Herd’s true character, .but if 
he had, he would not have hesitated to buy him, 
for his own purposes, if he could make him 
useful. 

After much whispered talking, Raymond 
handed Herd two hundred dollars, and left the 
camp, his departure being hastened by the arrival 
of Mrs. Rosser and Dora, neither of whom saw 
him. 

The mountaineer had conceived a violent dis- 
like for Harry, but apart from this, he was 
resolved to carry out his policy to make from the 
men of the North and of the South, whenever he 
had a chance. 

At this very time, his brother Lishe was follow- 
ing up Bragg’s army as it struggled through the 
mountains toward east Tennessee; and he and 
his associates were robbing the wounded and 
weak who were left in the trail of the retreating 
army. Before this, they had reaped a rich har- 
vest of plunder from the Union army that was 
forced to flee from Cumberland Gap. 

Cold-blooded, unprincipled and entirely mer- 
cenary though Dick Herd was, he was deter- 


“A Thinking Cap, 


259 


mined to earn the money Raymond had given 
him, though, it need not be said he made no 
division of it with the men who had followed him 
from the mountains, and who were ready to trans- 
fer their allegiance to the other side whenever he 
gave the word. 

This transaction between Raymond and Herd 
was witnessed by Sam Martin. Sam was him- 
self a mountain man, and he knew intuitively 
Dick Herd’s character; and having heard him 
denouncing the prisoner, he made up his mind to 
watch him. 

Sam also knew that it was on Raymond’s 
evidence that the prisoner was convicted, and 
he knew, or rather felt, that the transfer of the 
money had something to do with the case. 

At this time there were about a dozen of Paul 
Rosser’s old command at the camp. Some had 
been sick and some slightly wounded, but except- 
ing Sergeant Martin, all were sufficiently con- 
valescent to be sent to the front at once, and they 
were on duty “ policing ” and guarding the 
camp. 

Sam got a few of his friends apart, and 
addressed them after this fashion : 


260 “A Thinking Cap” 

“ Boys, thar ain’t one of us that wouldn’t foller 
Major Paul Rosser into a boilin’ pit, if he gave 
the word ; ain’t that so ?” 

The “ boys ” assured Sam that if he “ gambled 
on that, he’d make right smart money.” 

“Wal, ’nother thing,” Sam went on, “ we do 
know that Major Rosser liked his Confedrit 
brother, for we’ve hearn him say so purty offin — ” 

“ Cuss a fellow that won’t stick up for his 
brother !” said one of the men. 

“ Now, boys, if Major Rosser was in this camp 
to-night, which I’m sorry to say he ain’t, an’ his 
brother was over thar condemned to be hanged, ' 
which I’m sorry to say he is, don’t you think 
he’d feel mighty thankful to the guards that ^ 
slipped his brother out in the darkness, put him 
on a critter, an’ told him to make tracks for his 
own side of the fence, just as fast as he could 
gallop ?” 

The boys promptly agreed with this state- 
ment. 

“ But,” continued Sam, “ the major ain’t here 
to tell us what he wants, an’ in this particklar 
case, it ain’t necessary he should be. So what 


“A Thinking Cap . 


261 


should we-uns do? Why, we-uns should do 
what he’d most like ; ain’t that so ?” 

“ Yes, it is, Sam. We-uns see jest what yer a 
pushin’ for, an’ we’ll stan’ by you. Only put on 
yer thinkin’ cap an’ tell us how the thing’s to be 
did,” said a tall man, with a thick bandage over 
his left eye, and his hat on the back of his head. 

“ I knowed you-uns would stan’ by me,” said 
Sam, his honest face glowing with pride. “ Now, 
I’ll git up the plan, an’ meantime I want you all 
to keep yer eyes peeled, an’ see what Herd an’ 
his hounds is doin’. My own belief is that 
they’re a pack of gorrillers, an’ that our side 
wouldn’t lose nothin’ if they was all planted.” 

This seemed to be the prevailing opinion, and 
after a pledge to vigilance and secrecy, the men 
separated. 

Meantime Mrs. Rosser had gone to see Harry; 
and Dora Burns, the very personification of fiery 
energy, went to the telegraph-office. 

She sent dispatch after dispatch to the Presi- 
dent, without waiting for a reply. She tele- 
graphed her father, in whose power she had 
unbounded faith, imploring him to interfere; 
and again and again she sought out Colonel 


262 


“A Thinking Cap. 


Clarke and sought to prove to him that there 
were occasions when a soldier, in the interests of 
humanity and in obedience to the higher law, 
would be justified in disobeying orders. 

She cited cases to him. She asked him what 
he would do if the prisoner were his own brother 
and Mrs. Rosser his mother there pleading for 
his life. 

The colonel was impressed. Yet, as a soldier, 
he said that he must either carry out orders or 
resign ; and he said : 

“ If I resign, a sterner man might take my 
place.” 

Dora frankly said she could not well see 
“ where they could find a more stubborn man 
whereat the colonel blushed, and wished more 
than ever that some other man were in charge of 
the camp. 

We shall not attempt to describe the meeting 
between Mrs. Rosser and her son. 

Poor mother ! It was to her heart that all the 
suffering came at last ! 

There were no silver threads in her brown hair 
when the war began ; now it was so gray that 
the original color could not be discovered. 


“A Th in king Cap. ’ ' 


263 


Her constant torture was the more crushing* 
for the uncomplaining patience with which she 
bore it. 

If she could have wept and given demonstra- 
tion to her anguish, it would not have told on 
her so, but she was ever calm, ever patient, ever 
self-restrained. 

Harry tried to cheer her. He assumed a 
hopefulness he did not feel, and a lightness that 
in no way indicated the great load at his heart. 

It was near dark when Mrs. Rosser rose to 
leave the cabin. 

“ And will not Dora, who has taken such an 
interest in my case, come to see me, that I may 
thank her?” asked Harry, after his mother had 
kissed him. 

“ She will not come near you so long as there 
is a hope of saving you,” said Mrs. Rosser. 

“ I could almost wish that the hope were less, 
if it is that that keeps her away,” said Harry. 

“ She is here as our friend ; and so long as you 
are in the Southern Army, so she says, she will 
never voluntarily see you.” 

Harry was about to say that it looked as if he 
would soon be mustered out of the service by 


264 


“A Th in king Cap. 


the enemy, but he saved the dear mother a pang 
by keeping the thought to himself. 

Colonel Clarke had placed his own quarters at 
the service of Mrs. Rosser and Dora, and his 
cook exhausted the resources of the camp in get- 
ting them a supper that night. 

But neither had an appetite for the delicacies 
set before them, though Dora expressed surprise 
that soldiers lived so well. She imagined that 
this was a fair sample of the food supplied the 
men on the march or in camp. 

Mrs. Rosser and Dora were still seated at the 
table, talking in whispers, when Ovy came in. 
There was an expression of great secrecy in his 
face and much white visible in his eyes, as he 
whispered : 

“ Missy, dar’s a man wants to see yeh ?” 

“ Who is it?” asked Mrs. Rosser. 

“ He’s one ob Mauss Paul’s sojers,” said Ovy. ' 
“ Reckon you’ve heerd ob him, for his name’s 
Sergeant Sam Martin,,” 


Sam Martin Acts. 


265 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

SAM MARTIN ACTS. ' 

Ovy led Sam Martin into the tent. Mrs. Ros- 
ser and Dora had read of him and heard of him 
through Paul, and on his appearance, both shook 
hands with him. 

Rude and uncultured though he certainly was, 
Sam Martin had more innate chivalry and 
nobility of character than many of the sons of 
kings. Had he been accustomed to refined 
society all his life, he could not have been more 
at ease, though it may have been that his earn- 
estness in his mission prevented his being bash- 
ful. 

“ Before I say anything,” he began, “ I want 
this black boy to stan’ outside an’ see that no 
galloot, like Dick Herd, comes flappin’ his long 
ears ’round this yar tent.” 

Without any further order, Ovy went out and 
took a position where he could watch. 

“ I reckon, ladies,” Sam continued, “you-uns 


Sam Martin Acts. 


266 

mout have heerd Major Paul Rosser talk of me. 
I rode by his side plum up to the guns at Shiloh 
Hill, though I wouldn’t have done it, I’ll allow, 
if he hadn’t been thar.” 

Both hastened to say that they had heard of 
Sam Martin very often, and that they were glad 
to see him. 

“ Wa-al, the major’s brother’s in a mighty bad 
box, an’ me an’ the boys of the old command — 
thar’s thirteen har’ little and big — has made up 
our minds to git him out of that box to-night, or 
to break a trace a-tryin’ — ” 

“You have planned an escape?” said Dora, 
eagerly. “Oh, that is grand! I’ve thought of 
that.” 

“ Yes ; we-uns has built up a plan, an’ I reckon 
she’ll carry ; but you ladies must help. No fear 
about that, for the chaplain of an Ingianny regi- 
ment, on the pretense of talkin’ Gospil to the 
prezner, is a-goin’ to help us through.” 

“ God bless him for that !” said Mrs. Rosser. 

“ He’s got the kind o’ stuff in him that all 
preachers ought to be made of ; looks as if he 
could fight as well as preach, an’ I kinder cotton 
to men of that build. We have dead loads of 


Sam Martin Acts. 


267 


fightin’ preachers down East Tennessee way. 
My gran’dad was a circuit preacher in Powell’s 
Valley; an’ one time a lot of roosters took it 
into their heads that they’d bust up a revival he 
was bossin’, but the way he licked them fellers 
would have done yeh heart good to see !” 

“ But the plan — the plan for the prisoner’s 
escape !” urged Dora, who feared that Sam 
might forget the all-important question in mem- 
ories of his combative grandfather. 

“Yes, I am cornin’ to that. Wa-al, the 
preacher — his name’s Pritchard, an’ he’s goin’ to 
sing an’ pray, an’ wrastle in the sperrit with the 
prisoner, jest as long as he cares to stand it, or 
till he’s nigh ’bout saved. Then all through the 
night, leastwise till ’bout half-past twelve o’clock, 
you two ladies must be goin’ in an’ cornin’ out, 
one at a time, so’s to get things mixed up. An’ 
you must both take on all the time, as if you felt 
powahful bad ; an’ I reckon thar won’t be much 
pertindin’ needed in that case — ” 

“ But what will all this amount to?” asked the 
now throroughly impatient Dora. 

“ It’ll amount to heaps. Jest kinder rein 
down to a slow walk, an’ I’ll explain.” Sam 


268 


Sam Martin Acts . 


made a motion with his wounded arm as if he 
were checking a horse, then continued : 

“Fve got a woman’s cloak an’ hat, an’ these 
things we’ll carry in to the prezner. When 
the right time comes, he’ll slip out, the preacher 
walkin’ with him. When they git a bit away 
lrom the cabin, I’ll be handy ; then I’ll take him 
to that part of the camp guarded by our own 
friends, the major’s men. When the prezner 
reaches thar, he’ll find his darkey a-sittin’ on one 
horse an’ a-holdin’ another. If the major’s 
brother can’t take that hint an’ light out, then 
he desarves to be hanged — that’s all.” And 
Sam Martin shook his head savagely. 

“ And you believe, Sergeant,” said Mrs. 
Rosser, her face brightening at the prospect, 
“ that this plan will succeed ?” 

“ I don’t believe, ma’am,” said Sam, respect- 
fully, “that it’ll succeed itself, onless it’s got 
some one to take holt an’ push it for all it’s 
worth. I’ve heern my gran’dad say that when- 
ever the women an’ the preachers took holt of 
anything, they could make it hum. Now, will 
you help we-uns out ?” 

He asked this as if the matter were strictly 


Sam Martin Acts. 


269 


his own private business and he had some doubt 
as to the result. 

Mrs. Rosser took his hand and blessed him ; 
and Dora said that, if Sam succeeded, she 
would never rest until she saw him wearing a 
captain’s shoulder-straps. 

“ I’m off,” said Sam, moving toward the door. 
“ Go down to the cabin ; it’s dark now ; an’ 
you’ll find Mr. Pritchard thar. Mebbe he’s 
a-prayin’, but he’ll stop long enough to give some 
hints.” 

.With this, Sam went out, found Ovy, and, 
after a short confidential talk, led him away. 

Mrs. Rosser, from the depths of despondency, 
and Dora, from the verge of despair, were 
brought to feel a thrill of hope by the brave, 
confident words of Sam Martin. 

Shortly after the young East Tennesseean left, 
Colonel Clarke entered the tent and announced 
his readiness to conduct the ladies to the pris- 
oner’s quarters, if they were ready to go. 

They were ready at once ; and Dora said, as 
they walked along : 

“ Will we not be at liberty, Colonel Clarke, to 
come and go during the night, as we choose?” 


270 


Sam Martin Acts . 


“ Certainly,” replied the colonel. 

“ And you will see that the guard is instructed 
to that effect ?” 

“ I shall see the officer of the guard and tell 
him to obey your orders as if they were mine — 
so long as they do not conflict violently with army 
regulations,” said the gallant colonel. 

Already Chaplain Pritchard was in the cabin, 
where a dim light burned. He did not appear 
to be talking of eternity with the prisoner when 
the ladies entered, for there was a glint in his 
keen gray eyes, never seen where men preach 
perfect resignation. 

The chaplain shook hands with Mrs. Rosser 
and Dora in a hearty Western way. And Dora, 
against the resolution she had formed before 
entering, yielded to the influence of her gentler 
nature, and gave Harry her hand. 

The touch of her white fingers thrilled him, 
and the one glance she gave him filled him with 
the hope that is born- of love. 

Soon after they entered the cabin, the storm, 
which had been threatening in the sky since 
noon, burst upon the camp with all the fury of 
the fall equinox in that latitude. 


Sam Martin Acts. 


271 


The spaces between the rough logs were open, 
and as the unrestrained wind whistled through, 
the tallow candle was soon extinguished. Like 
liquid bullets, the rain dashed on the clapboards 
over head ; and the four people inside had to 
get closer together to talk. 

“ The Lord has answered a part of my 
prayer,” said the chaplain, in a glad whisper. 
“ He has sent this storm to be a shield to the 
fugitive ; may He guard him till He sends the 
Angel of Peace to guide him safely back to the 
loving hearts that famish for his return.” 

“ Amen,” said Mrs. Rosser, fervently. 

“ Some one of you ladies must go out and 
come back again every half hour,” whispered 
the chaplain. “ I came provided with cloaks 
and umbrellas. Ask no explanation, but leave 
it all to Brother Sam Martin and me.” 

They asked no explanations, but followed the 
good man’s advice implicitly, passing and re-pass- 
ing the guards till midnight, one at a time and 
sometimes both together. 

The guard before the door was heard to shout 
above the roar of the storm : “ Half-past 

twelve; post number four. All’s well,” when 


2J2 


Sam Martin Acts. 


the chaplain, who had covered Harry’s form 
with a cloak, hoisted an umbrella at the door, . 
and called back : 

“ Come, my poor friend ; come, and I will see 
you off safe.” 

Harry pressed Dora’s hand, kissed his mother, 
and stepping to the chaplain’s side, took his arm, , 
while Dora, as if answering, called out : 

“ Heaven bless you, my friend, for your kind- 
ness.” 

“Halt! Who goes there?” called out the 
guard before the cabin. 

“ Chaplain Pritchard, with the countersign 
and a lady,” was the rather unmilitary response. 

The guard had taken the countersign from the 
chaplain several times since the last relief, and 
so he let him pass without requiring it again. 

“Taps” had been sounded more than three 
hours before, and excepting in the guard-house 
and the hospital-tents, all the lights were out, 
and the camp was steeped in the silence and 
darkness of death. 

Holding fast to the stalwart chaplain’s arm, 
Harry kept pace with him, without uttering a 
word. 


Sam Martin Acts. 


2 73 


A few hundred yards, and Mr. Pritchard 
halted and whispered, with much force : 

“ Sam ; I say, Brother Sam !” 

“ Present,” came a low response, that seemed 
to rise from the ground. 

“ Good, Sam ; try to feel us, for we can’t see 
you.” 

Sam did feel them. 

“ Now take off your cloak ; I have another 
woman to wear it back ; then trust yourself to 
Sam.” 

The chaplain took the cloak, pressed Harry’s 
hand with the grip of a blacksmith, and was 
gone. 

Holding Harry’s arm, Sam led him on to the 
southeast, and again came to a halt. 

“ Here,” he said, as he helped Harry to fasten 
the belts, “ is pistols with lots of ammunition, an’ 
a carbine with lots of ditto. I ain’t in for armin’ 
the inimy, but it’d be better to stay har an’ die 
at wanst, than to go down Cumberland Mountain 
way with out havin’ the tools handy for shootin’ 
back.” 

“ I shall not forget this, Sergeant,” said Harry, 


274 


Sam Martin Acts. 


too much affected to say much, still feeling that 
he must say something to indicate his gratitude. 

“ Wa-al, don’t forget that I ain’t a helpin’ you, 
coz yer on the other side, but coz yer Paul 
Rosser’s brother,” said Sam, adding, as they 
resumed their journey : “ Some of our boys — 

meant to say your brother’s boys — is on guard 
down this way, an’ they’ll let you through. 
Arter you git out, make for the mountains, plum 
south. An’ I say, Cap’n !” 

“ What is it, Sergeant?” 

“ If you examine your cartridge-boxes in the 
mornin’, you’ll find a right smart Confed. money 
in thar. Some of it I won from one of your 
pickets at poker, but most of it I scooped in 
from one of Bragg’s paymasters that we gobbled 
over at Frankfort. Oh, don’t refuse it, I expect 
to strike more of your paymasters ; an’ then our 
folks prefer greenbacks to graybacks, which I 
think shows right smart better taste ; an’ — ” 

“ Halt ! Who goes there ?” this in a low, 
eager tone, Glided Sam’s sentence, and brought 
the two to a stop. 

“ Friends with the countersign,” said Sam, 
promptly. 


Sam Martin Acts. 


275 


“ Advance, one at a time, and give the counter- 
sign, ’’ said the guard. 

Harry could not see the man, but he heard the 
double, metallic click, as the rifle was cocked. 

Still holding Harry’s left arm with his 
unwounded hand, Sam advanced, and said : 

“ You know us, Bill Rodgers.” 

“You, Sergeant Sam?” from the guard. 

“ Right, Bill.” 

“ An’ the man ?” 

“ We’re tetchin’ elbows,” said Sam. 

“ The countersign’s right,” laughed the guard. 
“ Pass.” 

“ The critters is close by ; but mind you, keep 
right on to the south. You’ll find a blue over- 
coat strapped to the saddle an’ yer boy has 
another ; they may come in handy in more ways 
than one,” said Sam, when they had passed the 
guard. 

Before Harry Rosser could make a reply, they 
had come upon the horses, and the^heard Ovy 
asking, in a low voice : 

“ Mauss Harry — Mauss Harry, is dat you ?” 

“ It is I, Ovy.” 

“ Oh, bress de good Lor’ !” 


276 


Sam Martin Acts . 


“You’ll find this a mighty good critter, Cap’n 
Rosser,” said Sam, as, with a cavalryman’s care, 
he felt the girth and headstall. “ This is the 
animal General Burns was a-ridin’ over at Perry- 
ville, when one of your sharp-shooters picked 
him out of the saddle. But I reckon the young 
lady won’t much mind your lightin’ out on her 
father’s horse.” 

It was not necessary to see Sam’s face to 
understand the delicate hint implied in his 
words. 

Harry was about to mount, when a man rose 
up by his side, and whispered : 

“ Sam ! Sam ! they are watchin’ for us !” 

“Who’s watchin’?” asked Sam. 

“ Herd an’ his crowd.” 

“ Wa-al, let ’em come.” Then to Harry : 

“ Cap’n, your pistols and carbine’s loaded. 
You understand ?” 

“ I do, Sergeant.” 

“ Then, good-bye ; an’ if ever you find an 
East-Tennessee Yank in a hole, help him out.” 

“ Trust me.” 

The two men shook hands, and their palms 


Again at the Front. 


2 77 


were still touching, when fierce yells, punctuated 
by rifle-shots, startled them. 

Then came other shots and other cheers. 
Herd’s men and the sergeant’s were fighting in 
the darkness. 

“ Keep close to me, Ovy !” called out Harry. 

Then, with the bullets hissing about them, 
they plunged into the night. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

AGAIN AT THE BATTLE’S FRONT. 

“ The prisoner — the spy has escaped !” 

This was the news that flew through the 
camp soon after rev'eille sounded the next morn- 
ing. 

The men, crawling half-dressed and yawning 
out of their tents, heard it, and with oaths indica- 
tive of delight, they expressed their pleasure. 

The officer of the day, after looking into 
the vacant cabin and sending the now useless 


278 


Again at the Front . 


guards to quarters, sought out the colonel, and 
reported the spy missing. 

Colonel Clarke was a cool, self-restrained gen- 
tleman, and this may have been the reason for his 
bearing on this occasion. 

“You are sure Rosser is gone, Captain?” he 
said, quietly, while he pulled on his riding-boots. 

“ No doubt of it, sir,” said the officer of the 
day, with a slight twitching of the right eyelid. 

“ How did it happen ?” 

“ I have made no investigation, Colonel.” 

“ And attempted no pursuit ?” 

“ I think that would be useless. Besides, sir, I 
thought it better not to move without orders.” 

“ Think the guards were bribed?” 

“ I cannot say, sir; but if you have any sus- 
picions that way, you can order them all under 
arrest,” said the officer of the'day. 

“ No ; let us investigate first. Let me see. 
The prisoner’s mother, Miss Burns and Sergeant 
Martin were the only visitors allowed to see the 
prisoner, I believe?” 

The colonel pulled on his coat, and looked up 
at the canvas roof over his head, as if he were 


Again at the Front . 279 

asking the question from some one in that 
quarter. 

“ You forget Chaplain Pritchard, sir. He was 
very eager last night to help the prisoner’s 
soul.” 

“And a man who honestly aims to purify a 
fellow-man’s soul is ever the first to make the 
bod)» comfortable. Pritchard is an excellent 
chaplain ; he led a charge over at Donelson, 
with a Bible in one hand and a trooper’s sword 
in the other. He reminds me of one of Crom- 
well’s psalm-singers.” 

“Shall I attempt a pursuit, sir?” asked the 
officer of the day, with another and a more 
violent twitching of the right eyelid. 

“ Investigate first. If we find he has gone 
south, there is no use in following ; if he has 
gone north, the chances are he will be caught.” 

“ And that is all, Colonel?” 

“ That is all — at present — Captain.” 

The officer of the day saluted with his right 
hand, seized his unhooked sword with the left, 
wheeled, and went out of the tent with a pleased 
smile on his sunburned face. 

An investigation was made that morning, and 


2 SO 


Again at the Front. 


it resulted in the discovery that not only the 
prisoner but also two valuable horses, with their 
equipments, were gone. It also brought to 
light the fact that Dick Herd lay unconscious in 
the hospital with a crushed skull, but whether 
the wound had any connection with the fugitive 
prisoner, Herd was not in a condition to say, and 
so the investigation came to an end. • 

There was a general impression in camp that 
Sergeant Sam Martin could tell a great deal if 
he would ; but as he did not volunteer his infor- 
mation, and there was no legal way of forcing it 
out of him, he was left unquestioned. 

After breakfast and guard-mount that morn- 
ing, Colonel Clarke called on Mrs. Rosser and 
Dora, and he actually congratulated them on 
what had happened. 

“ It has saved me the performance of a very 
unpleasant duty,” he said, with a pleased smile. 

Already the ladies had seen Sam Martin, and 
heard of the successful enterprise of the night 
before. 

“ My son Paul has been very anxious to see 
Sergeant Martin,” said Mrs. Rosser to the 
colonel ; “ and if you could grant him a few 


Again at the Front . 


281 


weeks leave of absence — for he is wounded — we 
could take him back as our escort, and see that 
he returns in good shape for duty.” 

The colonel, in addition to being a very gallant 
gentleman, was in a fine humor this morning. 
At heart, he not only felt, but he knew, that Sam 
had -much to do with the escape ; but he kept 
his thoughts to himself ; and, to please the ladies 
as well as to do service to a soldier whose record 
had been of the best up to this time, he granted 
Sam a furlough for four weeks. 

It was still early in the forenoon when Mrs. 
Rosser’s carriage, with herself, Dora and Sam 
inside, was driven away from Camp Dick Robin- 
son. 

The officers waved them a good-bye, and 
groups of soldiers swung their hats and cheered 
them as they left the camp. 

On reaching home — they had eased Paul’s 
anxiety by sending him a long dispatch before 
starting — they found the brave fellow eagerly 
awaiting them ; and the glow on his cheeks and 
the light in his eyes told that the old health and 
strength were returiiing. 

The meeting between Sam Martin and his old 


282 Again at the Front. 

commander was most affecting. Difference in 
rank was forgotten, and when Paul put his arms 
about the sergeant’s neck, there were glad tears 
in the eyes of both, and for the instant they 
seemed to hear' the roar of the guns and the 
quick panting of galloping horses, as they swept 
up to the batteries on Shiloh hill. 

Dora, happier than she had been since the 
cruel war began, hastened home to her father, 
to tell him, she said, with a glad laugh, that his 
best horse had been stolen. 

After supper, Sam was told that he might 
smoke wherever he chose, and, with this permis- 
sion, he lit his pipe and sat down near Major 
Rosser, before a roaring wood-fire, in the sitting- 
room. 

The servants were never known to be so 
attentive to a fire before. Under the plea of 
adjusting the half-burned logs, or putting on 
fresh ones, Uncle Eph first came in and got a 
good look at Sam. Then, Aunt Marfa took her 
turn ; and so it went on till all the servants on the 
place had seen him ; and then they gathered 
in the cook’s quarters to compare notes. 

Paul Rosser was too full of his brother’s 


Again at the Front. 


283 


capture and escape to talk of anything else ; and 
Sam, never slow of speech, was in excellent trim 
for a narrative that night. 

Although the leader in the enterprise that 
rescued Harry Rosser from death, the sergeant — 
with the modesty that ever distinguishes merit 
— kept himself in the background, and brought 
Chaplain Pritchard to the front. 

“ Chaplain Pritchard,” he declared, “ was the 
whitest man that ever preached a sermon out- 
side East Tennessee.” 

In East Tennessee, he thought the chaplain 
might find an equal in his own grandfather, who 
had “ walloped a lot of galloots that tried to 
break up a revival.” 

The next morning, General Burns, with his 
head bandaged, put in an appearance. 

He was a sturdy man, in the prime of life, with 
keen eyes, a full beard and a military bearing. 

He was well pleased with something, but his 
words, taken by themselves and without seeing 
his face, would not indicate it. 

“ Mrs. Rosser,” he said, as he held that lady’s 
hand, “ I am reliably informed that your Con- 
federate son has stolen my best horse. Now I 


284 


Again at the Front. 


do not care to have any difference with a neigh- 
bor, but if the animal is not returned at once, I 
shall swear out a warrant, and have the culprit 
arrested and brought to trial.” 

“ Could we not satisfy you, General, if I gave 
you as good a horse?” asked Paul. 

“You haven’t a decent horse on the place!” 
growled the general. “John Morgan’s gang 
culled your stables, 9s they did mine. But, con- 
found him ! We’ll get even after a bit. And 
this is Sergeant Martin ? Glad to see you, Ser- 
geant. Saw you standing at the front over at 
Perryville, with the blood raining from your 
fingers.” 

The general shook Sam’s hand, and at once 
became cheerful ; and to show that he “ treasured 
no ill-will because of the horse,” he consented to 
remain to dinner. 

Four weeks of comparative happiness followed 
this. Then Paul was declared well, Sam Martin’s 
arm was “ as strong as ever,” and General 
Burn's head was healed. 

Clara shuddered when she thought of the 
parting that must soon come. 

Meanwhile, Bragg’s forces had swung round 


Harry s Adventures . 


285 


to Murfreesboro, and the Union Army, under 
Rosencrans, had gathered near Nashville, to 
recruit and prepare for the battle that must be 
fought at or near Stone River. 

And so there came a cold November day, 
when a group of sad-faced women stood on the 
railroad platform at Nicholas ville, and watched 
the receding train that bore their dear ones 
away. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

HARRY’S ADVENTURES. 

Knowing that his safety depended on immedi- 
ate flight, and believing that Sam Martin and his 
friends could care for themselves, Harry Rosser 
called to Ovy to keep beside him, and started off 
at a brisk trot. 

It was so dark that he could not see the road, 
and it would have been impossible for him to tell 
the direction in which he was going had he not 


286 


Harry s Adventures. 


been guided by the few lights visible behind him 
in the camp. 

Ovy showed a disposition to talk, but his mas- 
ter restrained him. After the lights were lost, 
they brought their horses down to a walk, and 
kept on at that pace till daylight. 

During the night, both had put on the heavy 
blue overcoats provided by the sergeant, and had 
it not been for these, they must have suffered from 
the cold rain that poured down through the 
darkness and showed no signs of ceasing when 
daylight came. 

Fearing that they might meet some of Buell’s 
army returning from the bootless pursuit of 
Bragg, Harry kept in the by-ways and woods, 
taking care to head for the mountains to the 
south. 

The signs of wealth and civilization gradually 
died out, the farms becoming poorer and further 
apart, and the roads more like broad, rough 
trails. 

Harry and his servant were hungry, but it was 
the desire to rest and feed the horses, on which 
so much depended, that induced him to call a halt 
before a dilapidated frame house, perched on 


Harry s Adventures. 


287 


stilts above a tributary of the Cumberland River. 
The only occupants of this place appeared to 
be a thin old man, and a stout old woman, his 
wife. 

“We ain’t got much left,” said the old man, 
when Harry asked to have the horses fed and to 
get some food for himself and servant. “ Fac’ 
is,” he continued, “ what the Southern sojers 
didn’t carry off the Yanks destroyed.” 

Harry had come to know that whenever a man 
spoke of the Confederates as “ rebels,” that it was 
safe to set him down as Union ; and that when- 
ever the Union troops were referred to as 
“ Yanks,” the speaker was invariably a friend of 
the South. 

Without explaining where he came from, or 
why he was not with Bragg’s army, Harry told 
the man, whose name was Gatewood, that he 
belonged to Morgan’s cavalry, and was ready to 
pay well for whatever he got. 

In proof of this statement, he drew from his 
cartridge-box a roll of Confederate money, and, 
as he turned over the bills, he was surprised at 
the amount. There were many thousand dollars 
in the roll, and, as the bills were new, he came to 


288 


Harry's Adventures. 


the conclusion that they were part of the spoil 
that Sam Martin took from Bragg’s paymaster 
at Frankfort. 

At sight of the money, the old man’s hollow 
eyes sparkled, and he confessed that he and his 
wife — the old woman stood near by — had saved 
a little food from the soldiers, and that they 
would gladly give it without pay to a friend of 
the cause, if it wasn’t that winter was coming on 
and the prospect of a famine was great. 

With the proverbial liberality of the man who 
comes easy by his money, Harry paid the old 
man fifty dollars in advance. As soon as the 
transfer was made, the old woman ran into the 
house to prepare the corn-bread and bacon ; and 
the old man led the way to the fodder, and saw 
that the horses were fed. 

On the way back to the house, Mr. Gatewood 
said that he had two boys in the Southern Army, 
and that he would be there himself if it were not 
for his wife. He also said, in a confidential 
whisper : 

“ Last night, a gal that says she’s from way 
down Tennessee, come a-ridin’ to our house — 
that’s her critter under the shed back thar — an’ 


WHICH WAY ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME 1 ” ASKED PAUL — See Page 308 






















. 















































Harry's Adventures . 


289 


she tells me that her name’s Mollie Crump, an’ 
that she’s bound for the Blue-grass country to 
marry a man she’s in love with.” 

To Harry, who had a good deal of sentiment- 
in his nature, this information had much interest, 
and it at once gave an air of romance to the 
dilapidated place. 

Mollie Crump needs no introduction to the 
reader who has followed with any interest the 
fortunes of that loud-voiced but most reluctant 
soldier, George Netly. 

With a view to making herself useful — for the 
Gatewoods had no servants — and it may be with 
a natural curiosity to see the new arrival, Miss 
Mollie Crump assisted the old woman in getting 
dinner ; and when she saw that there was a plate 
set for only one, she thoughtfully placed another 
for herself directly opposite. 

Harry saw that a good meal was sent out to 
Ovy, and then, without any introduction, for the 
Gatewoods were not versed in social formalities, 
he sat down opposite Mollie Crump. 

Mollie Crump, though not possessing beauty 
or culture, was not positively bad-looking, and 
there was a certain force in her face, and an 


290 


Harry's Adventures . 


. indication of will-power in her high, shrill voice, 
that interested Harry at once. 

“ When Morgan’s men lit out,” said Mollie, as 
she broke a pone in two and began to sop a 
piece in the brown bacon gravy, “ I reckon you 
got left ?” 

“Yes, miss,” replied Harry. “I was a pris- 
oner, but, as you see, I have escaped.” 

“Think our side’s goin’ to lick the Yanks?” 
was the next question. 

“ 1 certainly hope so.” 

“ My name’s Mollie Crump. I’m from Ten- 
nessee.” 

“ Glad to know you, Miss Crump,” said Harry, 
with a courtly bow. “ My name is Harry 
Rosser.” 

“ ’Pears to me like as if I’d hearn of you. Are 
you a gen-er-al or a corp-or-al or any high-flyers 
like them ?” 

“ I’m a captain,” said Harry, trying to eat, for 
he was very hungry, and the food was getting 
cold. 

“ Whar are you from?” 

“ From Kentucky.” 

“ This State ?” 


Harry s Adventures. 


291 


“ Yes.” 

“ Was you riz har?” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

“ Married ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Expect to be ?” 

“ Well, I really cannot say,” said Harry, una- 
ble to control his laughter at this point-blank 
question. 

“Wa-al,” said Mollie, by way of explaining 
her curiosity, “ I ain’t married, but I expect to 
be.” 

“ I congratulate you, Miss Crump.” 

“ See har, Cap’n.” 

“ Yes, Miss Crump.” 

“ Do you know Morgan?” 

“Very well, indeed.” 

“ What’s your reeg’ment?” 

“ I belong to Morgan’s command.” 

“ A critter reeg’ment, then ?” 

“ Yes, all cavalry.” 

“ I’ve seed ’em, and so has my dad — to his 
sorrer.” 

Before Harry could ask the reason for this 


292 


Harry s Adventures. 


sorrow, Mollie Crump got her batteries into 
range and fired away again. 

“ Ever see a man named George Netly ?” 

“ Yes ; very often.” 

“ Know him ?” 

“ I do.” 

“Very well?” , 

“ Yes; I think I know Mr. Netly very well.” 

“ What do you think of him ?” 

This was so direct, that Harry hesitated for 
some seconds, then, after pretending to cough, 
he said : 

“ Mr. Netly and I went to school together.” 

Mollie deemed this answer explicit and satis- 
factory. 

“ Know George Netly ’s dad ?” was her next 
question. 

“ Very well, indeed.” 

“ How is he fixed ?” 

“ Fixed ?” repeated Harry. 

“ Yes ; is he rich ?” 

“ I believe he is very well off.” 

“ And George will get it all when the old man 
dies?” 

“ I suppose so.” 


Harry s Adventures . 


2 93 


“ Cap’n ?” 

“ Yes, Miss Crump/’ 

“ George Netly and me is engaged, and I’m 
now on my way to find him and make him stick 
up to his part of the bargain,” said Mollie, with 
much emphasis. 

Harry was startled at this information, for he 
had long known of George Netly ’s hopeless 
devotion to Clara Leroy. 

“ I am afraid,” he said, “ that you will not find 
young Mr. Netly at home, now.” 

“ Whar is he ?” she asked. 

“ He has rejoined Morgan, and the chances are 
he is now either in or very near Tennessee.” 

“ And whar are you goin’ ?” she asked. 

“To Tennessee.” 

“ Then, by gum !” said Mollie Crump, with 
startling suddenness, “ I’ll go ’long back to Ten- 
nessee with you. Oh, don’t be afraid that coz 
I’m a woman I can’t keer for myself!” 

“ I shall be happy to act as your escort if you 
are going my way,” said Harry, sincerely hoping 
that she would prefer some other direction and 
take it. 

•“ Oh, I’ll go your way, you can just bet, for 


294 Harry s Adventures . 

I’m bound to find my George. But if you take 
my advice you’ll come my way, for the moun- 
tains is full of gorillers, and by my pretendin’ to 
be your sister, we ken head ’em off. There, that’s 
fixed, and I’m ready to saddle up and light out 
whenever you are.” And Miss Crump, who 
could eat and talk at the same time with aston- 
ishing facility, sprang up from the table, fished 
from the depths of her pocket a bottle of snuff, 
and began to “ dip ” with an energy that showed 
she thought her time for luxuries limited. 

After a rest of about two hours, Harry and 
Ovy mounted, and Mollie Crump, who insisted 
on caring for her own horse, appeared from 
behind the shed, in which the creature had been 
stalled. 

She sat in the saddle with that easy confidence 
that comes only from long practice, and her 
Amazonian bearing was heightened to Harry by 
the sight of two long pistols protruding in a 
defiant way from the holsters fastened to the 
pommel of the saddle. 

Ovy surveyed the reinforcement with actual 
awe. He firmly believed that this young woman 
was a feminine warrior, and he felt that her 


Harry's Adventures . 


2 95 


capacity for slaughter was only limited by the 
strength of the Union Army. 

Mollie, as they rode along, showed that she 
was not only willing to tell everything about 
herself, but also ravenously eager to learn every- 
thing about her companion. 

Curiously enough, she took no more notice of 
Ovy than if he had not been present. 

They stopped that night with the ferryman 
who carried them across the Cumberland, and 
who told them that if they went in the direction 
of “ the Gap,” they would be “ most nigh sure to 
run into the Yankee cavalry.” 

As the ferryman’s house had only one room, 
and a large family already occupied it, Mollie 
Crump, after supper, took her saddle-bags and 
holsters and declared her intention of sleeping on 
the fodder in the stable. 

After a consultation with the ferryman and a 
neighbor, who appeared with a gun early the 
following morning, Harry decided that his only 
course lay along the route which he followed 
when he escaped after the battle of Mill Springs. 

This decision delighted Mollie Crump. She 
had not seen her parents for a long time, and a 


296 


Harry's Adventures . 


sense of duty, if not of filial love, caused her to 
think of the home from which she had been so 
long a stranger. 

As Harry carefully made his way down 
through these wild mountains, expecting every 
day to be brought face to face with Lishe Herd 
or some of his lawless gang, he found women 
and children the only occupants of the wretched 
log-cabins. 

The battle-tide had gone against the South for 
the time, and thither Herd’s followers had gone 
to plunder the weak, and to kill and rob those 
who had given out along the lines of Bragg’s 
hurried but well-conducted march. 

Ten days of constant travel without any strik- 
ing adventure, Mollie Crump meanwhile con- 
ducting herself like a veteran soldier, and then 
they came to the valley in which her parents 
lived, and where she met with a reception such 
as was accorded to the prodigal son of the 
parable. 


A New- Year s Night. 


29 7 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A new-year's night. 

It was the last week of 1862, and the small 
division of Union cavalry was weary, but by no 
means dispirited from its daily struggle with the 
swarming horsemen of the South. 

Up from Murfreesboro the Confederates 
marched, and out and down from Nashville 
came the Union legions; and on the opposite 
banks of Stone River the pickets exchanged 
coffee for tobacco, or bullet for bullet, as the 
humor possessed* them. 

It had been raining for a week. The dirt- 
roads were cut into deep ruts by the artillery, 
and the fenceless fields were beaten into slush 
by the hoofs of the cavalry and the heavy feet of 
bronzed brigades. 

The once gay flags were stained by the rain, 
tattered by the wind and riddled in the death- 
storm of bullet and shell. 


298 A New-Year's Night . 

The once brilliant uniforms were rusty and 
weather-beaten. 

The trappings of the horses were brown and 
cracked. 

Regiments once strong had lost two-thirds of 
their numbers, but their fighting efficiency had 
been more than doubled by experience. 

The boys of recruiting days had become stern 
and bearded, changed in everything but heroic 
resolve, and that had become too deep to find 
expression in the vociferous demonstrations of 
the early days. 

On the night of the 30th, Colonel Paul Rosser’s 
cavalry bivouacked for some hours in the cedars 
along the Nashville Pike and on the Widow 
Burrowe’s plantation. 

The horses were enjoying their much-needed 
rest, and the men, grouped about the fires, were 
eating their much-needed rations, when Sam 
Martin, now wearing the shoulder-straps of a 
second lieutenant, dismounted before the fire at 
which Paul Rosser was writing, and a servant 
preparing supper. 

From boot-toe to hat, Sam was splashed with 


A New- Year s Night. 


2 99 


mud, and his panting horse told that he had 
been riding hard. 

“ Colonel,” said Sam, saluting and drawing 
himself up (for he, too, had learned discipline 
and military etiquette in the stern school of war), 
“ 1 am just from our post at the upper ford.” 

“And what do you report from there, Lieu- 
tenant?” asked the colonel, as he sealed the 
letters he had been writing to his mother and 
Clara. 

“There is a strong force of the enemy’s 
cavalry there, sir.” 

“ But they show no disposition to cross ?” 

“ No ; but the pickets, who ’pear to be Ken- 
tuckians, sw’ar they are cornin’ over bright an’ 
early in the mornin’ to clean us out. We haven’t 
enough men at that p’int, colonel, to check them 
for a minute.” 

“Never mind what the pickets say ; they are 
not in the secret of their commanders. Take off 
your saddle-blanket and feed your horse with 
mine, over there in the cedars, and then have 
some supper with me, for I presume you are 
hungry,” said the colonel. 

« Hungry enough to eat a horse an’ chase the 


300 


A New - Year s Night. 


rider,” said Sam, as he led his horse to the 
cedars. 

After the stereotyped supper of hard-tack, 
bacon and black coffee, Sam Martin smoked and 
talked for about an hour, and then rode back to 
the pickets that were to watch the upper ford of 
the black river through the night. 

Along the dirt-roads, along the pike, along the 
railroads, on the edges of the trampled cotton- 
fields, and in the dense jungles of dwarf cedars 
and scrub oaks, fires burned dimly, making the 
irregular battle line from Johnson’s and Davis’ 
brigades, on the south and right, to Van Cleve’s 
and Negley’s, on the north and left. 

With their muskets by their sides, the locks 
shielded from the rain that beat upon them- 
selves, the infantry, not on picket or guard, lay 
down on the muddy ground, for a few hours’ 
comfortable sleep. 

To the rear of their batteries, the artillery 
horses huddled with drooping heads and 
depressed hips. 

About the guns, and wrapped in their red-lined 
overcoats, lay the men who, on the morrow, as 


A New- Year s Night. 301 

on the day before, were to direct the bolts of 
death. 

Out on the flanks, the cavalry, acting as 
videttes, stood in little groups, holding their 
bridle-reins, and cursing the weather in whispers, 
while they tried to pierce the darkness in the 
direction of the foe, or bent their ears to the 
ground to catch some indication of his advance. 

Between the battle lines, the pickets of both 
armies swarmed, strong as the skirmishers who 
would take their places when the gray dawn 
came. 

Friend and foe were so close that each could 
hear the other challenging the “ grand rounds ” 
as they passed on inspection from post to post. 

Here and there along the black river, or from 
the jungles’ depths, a rifle flash cut the darkness, 
and a crack rang out ; but they caused no alarm. 
The soldiers who heard it huddled closer on 
their wet blankets, and growled at “ the nervous 
fools on picket.” 

All night long, mounted couriers and aids, 
through the darkness and slush, dashed back and 
forth between the headquarters of general offi- 


cers. 


302 


A New-Year's Night . 




Two hours before day, the fires were renewed, 
and the men made coffee in their tin cups, and 
toasted their bacon on pointed sticks ; and they 
prudently devoured their sodden hard-tack, like 
men who knew not when they might eat again. 

With the first glimmer of light, on that last 
morning of 1862, the commanders on both sides 
proceeded to put their plans into execution. 

Ordinarily, at the opening of a day’s fight, 
there is a rattling, irregular fire along the skir- 
mish line, and here and there the pounding of a 
piece of artillery, that form a fitting prelude 4 to 
the opera of death. 

This morning there was nothing of the kind. 

Suddenly, and as if every piece were connected 
electrically, the quiet was broken by the thunder 
of artillery along the whole front. Charging 
began with the first volleys of the infantry, and 
fierce yells and brave cheers rang up from the 
cedars. 

“ Boots and saddles !” sounded in Colonel 
Rosser’s camp while yet the infantry were at 
breakfast, and the regiment mounted, and 
marched till checked on the banks of Stone River 
by the enemy’s vigilant horsemen. 


A New- Year s Night . 


303 


Useless to tell here what has better been told, 
even if germane to our story. 

The plans of commanders on both sides failed, 
but, as usual, they did not seem to know it. 

Regiments were annihilated. 

Brigades were crumbled, and twisted, and 
crushed into bleeding mobs. 

Fronts changed, and amid the constant rattle 
of musketry and the ceaseless roar of artillery, 
the jungles and the brown fields and the banks of 
the black river were covered with lifeless heaps 
of blue and gray and pools of red. 

Back and forth, in daring charge and stub- 
born retreat, the opposing lines swayed during 
that awful day. 

The fighting, that had been so terribly fierce 
and destructive on the right during the morn- 
ing, swept down to the centre by noon ; and 
as night approached, the contest concentrated, 
with redoubled fury, on the left, and swept about 
the ford which Paul Rosser’s horsemen had held 
against tremendous odds during the day. 

There was yet an hour of daylight, when an 
aid galloped up to Paul Rosser and saluted. 

“ Colonel Rosser,” said the aid, “ the ammuni- 


304 


A New - Years Night . 


tion train, coming down the river, is threatened 
by the enemy’s cavalry. The general orders 
that you abandon the ford and go to the protec- 
tion of the wagons. They must be saved' for 
Negley, Sheridan and Rousseau are out of 
ammunition.” 

“ It shall be done at once,” said the colonel. 

The bugle sounded, and at the call, the men, 
who had been fighting on foot in the advance of 
their horses, fell back and mounted. 

The sabres were unhooked and the carbines 
slung, and at a sharp trot the regiment moved up 
the river. 

A quarter of a mile, and they emerged from a 
jungle, to see the wagons about two hundred 
yards away, and the weakened guard trying to 
keep back the enemy’s troopers. 

The colonel saw that, to save the train, he 
must get at once between it and the gray squad- 
rons swarming out of the opposite woods. 

He quickly formed his men ; they looked as if 
on parade, except that the battle-light was on 
their faces. 

The enemy saw them, and, with wild cheers, 
advanced to the fray. 


A New- Year's Night. 


305 


Colonel Rosser spoke to the bugler at his side, 
the signal rang out, and five hundred sabres 
gleamed in the air. 

“Forward! Trot!” 

They were up to the wagons, and so close to 
the enemy that they could see their eyes. 

“ Charge!” rang out at the same instant from 
both lines, and the mad horsemen in blue and 
gray were mingled. 

Two men, one on each side, were conspicuous 
in this struggle ; they were Paul and Harry 
Rosser. 

Taking advantage o£ the confusion, the guards 
hurried the wagons away, and the ammunition 
was saved for a third day of slaughter. 

At length, the Confederates were pressed back 
to the woods ; and just as Colonel Rosser was 
about to order his men to retire, for they had 
accomplished their mission, his horse was killed ; 
and, before he could free his feet from the stir- 
rups, he was pinned to the ground by the ani- 
mal’s weight. 

Wheeler’s men came to the rescue from the 
southern side, and the Union cavalry, in their 


3°6 


A New - Night . 


turn, were driven back, leaving their colonel 
behind them. 

When Paul Rosser recovered from the shock, 
it was quite dark, and the moaning of the wounded 
in the jungle had taken the place of cheers and 
yells and the rattle of small arms. He tried to 
free himself from the weight of the dead horse 
lying across his right leg, but the fruitless effort 
only weakened him. 

As he lay there, he saw the occasional flash of 
a moving light through the trees, and he sup- 
posed it came from the details out searching for 
the wounded. m 

At length another light became visible, and as 
it came nearer, Paul could distinguish the voices 
of a white man and a negro, though he was una- 
ble, at first, to make out the words. 

At length he heard this : 

“Yes, he must be near here, for I saw him 
fall.” 

From behind a tree the two men appeared and 
came directly toward where Paul lay. 

The white man carried a lamp, and as he flashed 
it back and forth on the dying and the dead, Paul 
recognized his brother and Ovy. 


A New-Year's Night. 307* 

They came very close, then stopped, as if to 
seek in another direction, when Paul called out : 

“ Brother ! Brother ! is that you ?” 

“ Paul !” shouted Harry. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Thank God ; I’ve found you alive !” 

Harry gave Ovy the lamp, and ran in the direc- 
tion of the voice. He dropped on his knees, 
took Paul’s head in his arms and asked, as he 
kissed him : 

“ Much hurt, Paul?” 

“ I think not. A bit bruised, perhaps, by my 
horse’s falling on me. If you could turn him 
over, I’d be all right,” said Paul. 

Ovy, by his master’s order, hung the lantern 
on a cedar branch, and together they took hold 
of the horse and rolled him over, then lifted Paul 
to his feet. 

He was stiff, muddy and wet, but a careful 
examination showed that he had no other inju- 
ries. 

“ Harry, I suppose I must consider myself 
your prisoner; here is my sword,” said Paul, 
pulling the knot over his wrist and handing the 


3°8 


A New- Year's Night. 


blade to his brother, then unfastening his belt 
and letting it fall to the ground. 

Without a word, Harry returned the blade to * 
its scabbard, and told Ovy to carry that and the 
belt. 

“ Now, Paul,” he said, “ take my arm till you 
get back the use of your legs.” 

“ Which way are you going to take me ?” 
asked Paul, leaning heavily on his brother’s arm, 
for he was very stiff. 

“ Two hundred yards back. IT1 send for your 
saddle and equipments.” 

“ Do as you please about that ; they have 
changed ownership, and I have no further interest 
in them,” said Paul, grimly. 

Harry made no comment, but led his brother 
down to the river’s edge, where, sheltered by the 
bank, they found a fire, about which stood a 
group of weary men. They proved to be all 
Kentuckians, old friends and schoolmates of “ the 
Rosser boys.” 

They must have been acquainted with Harry’s 
mission, for as soon as they got sight of the 
brothers they ran forward and shook the hands 


A New- Year s Night. 


309 


of each, and expressed their joy at seeing Paul 
unwounded when they thought him dead. 

This was certainly not the reception the Union 
officer expected, and save for the difference in 
uniforms he might have been in a camp of his 
friends on the other side. 

Ovy began getting supper ; two men, at a word 
from their captain, went back to get the equip- 
ments from the dead horse, but from those who 
remained about the fire there came not a whisper 
of the battle that had been fought that day, and 
which many believed would be resumed on the 
morrow. 

These men spoke of home, and the happy days 
of their golden youth, when houses were not 
divided, and war was a romance to be read of in 
books. 

After supper Harry told of his escape, and 
even Paul had to laugh at his account of Mollie 
Crump. 

“ I wish she had George Netly now,” said one 
of the men ; “ it would make more room in the 
hospital at Murfreesboro, for ever since we left 
Kentucky he has been sick, and there is not a 
doctor in the land that can tell his malady. 


3io 


A New- Year s Night . 


“ I think I can,” said another. 

“ What is it ?” asked Harry. 

“ Well, it’s a disease most of us have, but pride 
forces us to keep it to ourselves.” 

“ What is that?” 

“ Fear,” was the reply. 

The truth and humor of this produced a laugh, 
for the man who never felt fear is incapable of 
the highest courage — the courage born of a 
sense of duty. 

About eleven o’clock, Harry, who had pen- 
ciled a letter, came over and told Paul to put it 
into his pocket, “ and ask no questions.” 

Two of the men, who had been away for some 
time, came back and nodded significantly to 
Harry. 

“ Come with me, Paul,” he said ; “ and you 
might bid good-bye to our friends.” 

Paul rose, and shook hands with his old asso- 
ciates; then, without a word, he took his 
brother’s arm, and they went up the steep clay 
bank. 

On the top there were three horses saddled 
and held by a black boy, who turned out to be 


A New - Year s Night. 


3ii 


“ the long-lost ” Virgy, whom Paul had not seen 
since Shiloh. 

From the pommel of one saddle Harry took a 
sword and belt, and as he fastened it about his 
brother’s waist, he said : 

“ That is yours, Paul ; and the equipments 
on this horse were taken from your dead one. 
There is no time for talk. We must move 
before the guard comes.” 

Paul obeyed silently, and between his brother 
and Virgil he rode toward the circle of lights 
that marked the Union lines. 

Harry halted, and as he held his brother’s 
hand, he said, hoarsely : 

“We are through our lines. Over there are 
your people. God bless you, Paul.” 

Then he rode back to the river. 

Paul and his servant went on, but they had 
not gone far when they heard a guard shouting : 

“ Twelve o’clock ! Post Number One ! All’s 
well!” 

Another new year had come to the world. 


3 12 


“The River of Blood' 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

CHICAMAUGA MEANS “THE RIVER OF BLOOD.” 

On the way back, Virgy, whose joy at again 
being with his old master was unbounded, 
related how he had been captured and “ con- 
fiscated ” at Shiloh, and how he had served as a 
servant for an officer in the Southern Army, till 
discovered and claimed by Harry a short time 
before. 

Curiously enough, Virgil spoke of himself as 
“a Yankee and he said, after speaking of his 
joy at meeting Ovy : 

“ I like Ovy, an’ de on’y t’ing I hab ’gin dat ar 
boy is dat he’s a rebel.” 

Paul found his own regiment that night, and 
the joy of the men, at seeing in their midst the 
loved leader whom they were mourning as dead, 
cannot be described. 

The battle on the day after New Year’s was 
fiercer, if that were possible, than the long 
struggle that had preceded it ; but before 


“ The River of Blood. 


3i3 


another night came, Bragg was forced back on 
Murfreesboro, and the Union Army, with a third 
of its numbers gone, was pressing over the river. 

Such a struggle as that tells on men like years 
of hard toil, even where they come unscorched 
from the battle’s furnace-heat. It ages men 
before their time, and burns into the brain, to 
come up again in dreams of agony through all 
the years of peace. 

Like weary gladiators, the armies rested for 
weeks, feeling each other’s whereabouts now and 
then, by means of an unimportant skirmish or 
raid, till the men and horses were recruited, and 
the grass and flowers of this year’s spring 
covered last year’s graves, and hid the scars on 
forest and hill. 

Harry heard regularly from his mother and 
Clara, and their dear letters, with the ever- 
increasing hope for peace and union, cheered 
him through the trying ordeals of a soldier’s life, 
for which he not only had no taste, but instead, 
a horror and a loathing. 

One day, in early summer, while the army 
was struggling across the many streams, and 
through the mountains that rise in rugged monu- 


“ The River of Blood. 


3H 

merits, as if to commemorate the place where 
the lines of Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee 
meet, Paul received a letter from Harry, which 
had been sent through under a flag of truce. 

As it was not long, we shall give it in full : 

“ My Dear Brother : Either directly or 
indirectly, I hear from you often ; and I could 
only feel prouder of your success if you were 
fighting on this side. 

“ You will be surprised to learn that I am now 
with Wheeler’s division, and, like yourself, I have 
command of a regiment of cavalry. 

“ I need not tell you how much I long for this 
war to end ; and I actually grow homesick and 
feel like deserting when I think of the dear 
mother back there in the lonely old Kentucky 
home, fearing that each mail may bring her sad 
news from her absent boys. 

“ Ah, Paul, old fellow, you and I are the tools 
of the politicians on both sides. But we are in 
for it, and must stick it out to the end, let that be 
what it may. 

“ I see by Northern papers that get through 
the lines, that our old friend, General Burns, is 


“ The River of Bloods 


3i5 


/ 

making a name. And speaking of him recalls 
Dora. Somehow, 1 cannot think she hates me ; 
or was it her regard for you and mother, or her 
dislike for Raymond, that led her to come to my 
rescue, when I was condemned to death? It 
comforts me to think that the effort was for my- 
self, and that, amid the ashes in her heart, there 
still burns a spark of that old love that was so 
precious to me. 

“ Ovy grows more and more of a fire-eater 
every day, and the only drawback to his happi- 
ness is to be found in the fact that he cannot see 
his father and mother at least once a week, and 
that his brother is a ‘ Yankee.’ 

“ Well, 1 will not go as far as Ovy in the latter 
matter, for I am, dear Paul, 

“ Ever your affectionate brother, 

“ Harry.” 

As General Burns’ camp was not far away, 
Paul took this letter to him at once, and without 
any apology, let him read it. 

Excepting when on duty, or in the presence of 
strangers, General Burns, as he had done since 
Paul was a boy, addressed him by his first name. 


3 l6 


“ The River of Blood'. 


“ Paul,” he said, in the slow, thoughtful way 
that distinguished him, “ next to a gallant friend, 
I admire a gallant, open foe, and Harry Rosser 
comes under that head. I have unbounded 
respect for an opponent who stakes his life upon 
his sense of right.” 

“ Then, General, you must have a great deal of 
respect for the enemy,” said Paul. 

“ And I have, particularly for the soldiers ; but 
for the men who could fight and won’t fight, on 
either side, I have nothing but contempt. But I 
have news for you,” said the general, with a more 
animated manner. 

“ What is that ?” 

“ General Bragg is retreating into Georgia, and 
to-morrow we press after him, through Mills’ 
Valley.” 

“ Then the chances are we shall soon have 
another fight ?” 

“I hope not; marching is hard enough. But 
if Bragg does not receive reinforcements — and I 
do not see where they are to come from — he can- 
not afford to meet us in the open field,” said the 
general ; and even as he was speaking, an aid 


“ The River of Blood, 


3 l 7 


appeared with an order telling him to break camp 
and advance. 

No time here to narrate the manoeuvres of the 
two armies, the one falling back slowly, the other 
advancing carefully through the hills of north- 
west Georgia. 

At length came a day when the Union Army 
seized Chattanooga, and confidently faced to the 
southeast, where lay the key city of Atlanta. 

Meanwhile, all unknown to the Union general, 
the Confederates had received strong reinforce- 
ments from Lee’s army in the East. 

This infused fresh spirit into Bragg’s veterans, 
who turned, like lions driven to bay, and in solid 
columns, one mid-September morning, they 
advanced on the Union Army, who, not dream- 
ing of a battle, were scattered in disjointed divi- 
sions along Chicamauga Creek, a tributary of the 
Tennessee. 

This country was formerly occupied by the 
Cherokee Indians, and in their language the name 
“ Chicamauga ” means “ The river of blood.” 

The reason for the native designation is 
unknown, but all doubts as to the fitness of the 
name were set at rest by the struggle that took 


“ The River of Blood. 


318 


place along its banks, and which dyed its slow 
current with the blood of kinsmen, from the hills 
to its mouth. 

Colonel Paul Rosser had been in the direction 
of Lemuel Hill, on the road to Atlanta, when a 
courier came, ordering him to fall back, and tell- 
ing him a fierce fight was then being waged 
along the Chicamauga, about eighteen miles 
from Chattanooga. 

There was no need for the latter information. 
Ever since daylight, the thunder of guns away to 
the west told that a battle was in progress. 

Colonel Rosser fell back to Ringgold, where 
he found many of the Union wounded, and 
learned that all the cavalry were ordered to 
support Crittenden, who was reported hard 
pressed. 

About noon, on Saturday, September the 19th, 
1863, and the second day of the battle, Colonel 
Rosser, who had been skirmishing on the left 
flank for two days, found himself riding under 
orders for the battle’s front, the very cratur of 
Death’s volcano, from which the wounded were 
vomited by thousands, and lay scattered through 
the woods. 


“ The River of Blood. 


3 1 9 


As he rode on at the head of his regiment, the 
debris of wagon-trains and the gangs of demoral- 
ized men told of defeat. He tried to learn the 
news from the wounded hobbling along the 
road. 

Here came a soldier with a musket for a 
crutch, and his shattered foot dragging behind 
him ; him Paul questioned : 

“ Where do you belong?” 

“To the regular brigade,” groaned the man. 

“ What is your regiment ?” 

“ The Sixteenth United Infantry.” 

“ Where are they ?” 

“ Killed or captured.” 

Here comes a man with his arm roughly band- 
aged. The blood has dried upon it, and hangs 
in great black clots. 

“ Who are you ?” asks the colonel. 

“Private Stebbins, of the Thirty-eighth 
Indiana.” 

“ What news ?” 

“ Bad, sir.” 

“ Was your regiment whipped ?” 

A look of anger comes into the man’s eyes, as 
he glances back over his shoulder, and says : 


320 


“ The River of Blood! 


“ Press on, and you’ll find most of them lying 
dead in line of battle.” 

Another, with a ghastly wound in the head, 
has upon his jacket the red stitches which show 
him to be an artillery man. 

“ Whose battery do you belong to ?” 

“ Guenther’s,” gasped the man, weak from loss 
of blood. 

“ King’s brigade?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Where is it now ?” 

“ Go ask the enemy,” and he totters away. 

Colonel Rosser compressed his lips, and 
pushed on. 

The streams of wounded grew stronger and 
stronger. Many of them were crushed by 
ambulances pressing to the rear with other 
wounded. 

Men with wounds of every imaginable 
description, not affecting their locomotion, came 
staggering by in swarms, and impeded for a time 
the advance of the cavalry. 

At length their guide led them to a wooded 
knoll, on the crest of which, Wilder’s mounted 
rifles were fighting on foot. 


“ The River of Blood. 


321 


Colonel Rosser was ordered to send his horses 
back of the hill so as to have them out of fire, 
and, this done, he was given a position on the 
right of the line. 

Already he had learned that the right and the 
left wings of the Union Army had been beaten 
in detail, and that only this, the centre, was left 
to cover the inevitable retreat on Chattanooga. 

Not three hundred yards away, he could see 
the confident veterans of Bragg and Longstreet, 
as they formed, like men on parade, for the final 
charge that was to convert Thomas’ Corps and 
the Army of the Cumberland into a fugitive 
mob. 

Behind logs, the stumps of trees and earth- 
works dug with their sabres, the cavalry lay, 
with orders not to fire till the command was 
given. 

Away to the front, and to the right, and to the 
left, the dense undergrowth of scrub-oak and 
black-jack had been literally mowed down by 
the bullets, and waited only for a spark to burst 
into a conflagration and raise a wall of fire 
between the opposing lines. 

The bugles could be heard between the inter- 


322 “ The River of Blood" 

vals of the guns, as the gray columns advanced 
with proudly waving banners. The men who 
assaulted Cemetery Hill at Gettysburg were 
moving to as desperate an undertaking on 
Thomas’ resolute men and the iron brigade, 
which, under General Burns, held the key of the 
position, within full sight of the ridge on which 
Colonel Rosser’s men were posted. 

Nothing in war could exceed in grandeur the 
charge of that magnificent corps. On, with a 
stubborn determination, it pushed, in the face of 
a fire which it seemed nothing could withstand. 

Panting from their long run, they came up to 
the guns and yelled : 

“ Surrender !” 

Another instant, and the charge was turned 
into a defeat ; for ten thousand men sprang from 
the ground behind the guns and literally hurled 
themselves on the men in gray. 

Then came the counter-charge, General Burns 
on foot leading his men into the splintered 
timbers in hot pursuit, and driving Longstreet 
back upon his reserves. 

But in their turn, Burns’ brigade, with the 
others, was forced to fall back. 


“ The River of Bloody 323 

During this counter-charge, Colonel Rosser, 
who was hotly engaged, got close to his old 
friend, and as they fell back he saw that the 
brigade retreated without its leader. 

The general, he reasoned, lay dead or wounded 
in the torn jungle, from which they had just 
extricated themselves, and in which lay so many 
of the wounded of both sides. 

As Colonel Rosser scanned the field directly 
in front through his glass, he noticed a small 
body of the enemy’s dismounted cavalry not far 
away, while between him and them jets of smoke 
shot up, altogether different from the silvery 
smoke of powder. 

“ The woods are on fire!” ran along the line in 
an awed whisper. 

It was even so, for, while the colonel looked, 
tongues of flame shot up between the lines, and a 
hoarse roar, as the wind fanned the fuel, told that 
a fresh horror had been added to the already 
horrible contest. 

The season was dry, and the conflagration 
spread with great suddenness and fury. 

Out of the furnace, uncaring now which side 
they reached, the wounded who could crawl 


3 2 4 


The River of Blood. 


made their way, while the firing on both sides 
ceased for the time. 

“ There ! There, Colonel !” cried Sam Martin, 
as he grasped the colonel’s arm with one hand 
and with the other pointed to a man who 
appeared to be standing in the midst of the 
flames, “ That’s General Burns !” 

Nervously Paul adjusted his glass and looked. 

Sam was right. 

He could make out the form and shoulder- 
straps ; even the face could be recognized, as he 
turned around like a man dazed. 

Is there no one to save him ? His own men 
are too far away to reach him in time, if the 
bravest dare make the perilous attempt. 

Where is the valiant soul to do and dare and 
die ! Haste, haste, or it will be too late, for the 
general has fallen and the flames roar about him ! 

“ Hurrah !” burst from many thousand throats, 
friend and foe joining in the cheer. 

A cavalryman in gray is seen dashing through 
the flames, as if they are his element. 

Hurrah, again and again ! He stoops and lifts 
the federal officer to his shoulder, and then stands 
as if dazed. 


The Rescue. 


325 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE RESCUE, AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT. 

Two armies watched the gallant Confederate 
lifting to his shoulder the wounded Union gen- 
eral, then hesitating as if in doubt which line to 
approach. 

The hesitation was only for a few seconds, yet 
they seemed like hours to the painfully anxious 
men looking into the fire. 

Suddenly the Confederate ran directly toward 
the Union lines. 

The guns stopped their roar for the moment, 
and soldiers dropped their muskets on the breast- 
works, and reached out their hands to help the 
tall Confederate, who, blackened by smoke and 
blistered by flame, tottered into their lines, and, 
reaching these, fell with his burden like one 
dead. 

Colonel Rosser inquired about the Confederate 
and his friend, General Burns ; and all he could 
learn from the officer who had come from that 


3 26 


The Rescue. 


direction was that both men had been placed in 
an ambulance and sent back to Chattanooga. 

“ Who was the Confederate?” asked Paul. 

“ I do not know,” said the officer. 

“ But you saw the man ?” 

“ So I did ; but he was unconscious.” 

“ What did he look like ?” 

“ The form was that of a tall, well-built young 
man ; but that was all I could make out.” 

“ And the face ?” 

“ The face!” said the officer, shaking his head 
sadly. “ Ah, that was pitiful. It was so blis- 
tered and burned that we could not distinguish a 
feature ; and it looked to me as if the eyes were 
melted from their sockets by the awful heat.” 

“ And General Burns ?” asked Paul. 

“ I am afraid the brave fellow is mustered 
out.” 

“ How is that ?” 

“ Cannon-shot.” 

“ Where was he hit ?” 

“ The left arm is completely torn away. Well, 
good-bye, Colonel. It may be our turn next. 
See, the enemy have resumed the battle, and it 
will be all the hotter for this breathing spell.” 


The Rescue. 


327 


With this, the officer saluted and rode away, 
taking care to keep under cover of the hill, for 
the air was again full of whistling bullets and 
screeching shells. 

The 20th of September was Sunday — a favor- 
ite day for battles — but, although the contest 
raged during that day, it was with the ever- 
waning force that comes of absolute exhaustion. 

That night and the next day the army under 
Thomas fell back to Chattanooga, where it soon 
found itself in a state of siege, with the Confed- 
erates in possession of Lookout Mountain and the 
lofty heights of Missionary Ridge. 

Colonel Rosser’s regiment, cut down to one- 
half its force of a week before, was among the 
last to enter the beleaguered camp. 

His men were unsaddling their exhausted 
horses, not far from the railroad, when General 
Garfield, Rosecrans’ chief of staff, appeared in the 
camp on foot. 

The yellow beard and stalwart form' of the 
Ohio soldier were very familiar to Paul, and they 
met as friends of long standing. 

“ Beatert for once, but not discouraged,” said 
General Garfield in his hearty, cheerful way, as 


328 


The Rescue . 


he held and shook Paul’s hand with his strong 
grip. 

“We are ready to try it again,” said Paul, 
quietly. 

“ By the way, Rosser, have you seen General 
Burns yet ?” 

“ I have not ; I am just in with the rear-guard.” 

“ You know he was wounded?” 

“ Yes ; how seriously?” 

“ His bridle arm is gone.” 

“ Amputated ?” 

“ Dressed ; I believe the cannon did the ampu- 
tating,” said the general, grimly. 

“ And how is he ?” asked Paul, eagerly. 

“Very low, indeed. But you heard of his 
wonderful escape ?” said the general, stroking 
his beard, but avoiding the colonel’s questioning 
look. 

“ I saw it. What of the noble fellow who saved 
him from the flames ?” 

“ He was a Confederate.” 

“ I know that, General ; but what has become 
of him ?” 

“ I will tell you. Come with me, for I wish to 
speak with you about that,” said General Gar- 


The Reseuc. 


3 2 9 


field, and he took the colonel’s arm and led him 
in the direction of the town. 

They walked some distance in silence, then the 
general spoke again: 

“ The act of that Confederate was the grandest 
of the war — ” 

“ But is the man living ?” asked Paul, his heart 
full of a dread such as had never come to it on 
the battle-field. 

“Living? Oh, yes, the poor fellow is living, 
and I hope he will continue to live, for there are 
none too many noble souls in this humdrum 
world.” 

“Who is the man?” asked Paul, stopping 
suddenly and looking squarely into General 
Garfield’s blue eyes. 

“ You already guess, Colonel. You know 
many men in the Southern Army ; who of all 
their number would you hit upon to be the hero 
of such an exploit ?” 

“ Harry Rosser — my brother !” said Paul, 
choking back the cry of anguish that rose in his 
throat. 

-« Such men, Colonel, would glorify the worst 
cause ever lives were lost for. Come, let us see 


330 


The Rescue. 


him ; I need not tell you to be calm,” said the 
general, again taking Paul’s arm, and leading 
him on. 

“ I am not thinking of him nor of myself,” said 
Paul, in a husky voice. 

“ I know that, my friend ; you are thinking of 
the mother. God pity and strengthen her. But 
it may not be as bad as the doctors think. Now, 
will you be guided my me ?” 

“ I shall, General, for I feel very weak,” said 
Paul. 

“ Then, we shall first visit General Burns. 
What say you ?” 

“ Whatever you will.” 

The general led him to a tent near the river, 
before which an orderly was pacing, to keep 
away intruders and to prevent noise in the 
vicinity. 

On a cot in the tent lay General Burns, the 
beard and eyebrows singed from his face, but the 
eyes, though telling of present torture, looked 
bravely up at the visitors. 

The general motioned with his remaining 
hand, and Paul stooped and pressed it to his lips, 
whispering : 


The Rescue . 


33i 


“ I saw it all ; I need not speak my sorrow.” 

“ Better men are sleeping back there,” said 
the general, nodding in the direction of the 
battle-field. “ I will not complain. And, Paul!” 

“Yes, General,” said Paul, bending to catch 
the weak, husky voice. 

“ A better man is sacrificed, I fear, to save 
me.” 

“ Harry ?” 

“ Brave, noble Harry ! Who else would have 
done it. Who else could have done it !” 

“ If it be God’s will that he must go now, it is 
better that death should come in this way. But 
I shall go to him ; and if he can hear, I will tell 
him what you say,” said Paul, again pressing the 
general’s hand, and going softly out with 
General Garfield. 

It seemed as if every house they passed was a 
hospital, and every tent filled with wounded ; 
while doctors were hurrying back and forth, and 
looking as jaded and exhausted as many of their 
patients. 

“ Here is the place,” said General Garfield, 
coming to a halt before a little frame-house, on 


332 


The Rescue . 


the windows of which the dimity curtains were 
drawn. 

“Will you not come with me, General?” 
asked Paul, now as weak as a frightened child 
who dares not enter the dark alone. 

Without a word, the general took his hand, 
and led him in. 

“ It is hard to say,” said the doctor, who stood 
at the door, when the general asked about the 
prisoner. 

“ Is he conscious ?” 

“Yes; he appears to be at times; but he is 
suffering from the terrible shock,” said the 
doctor. 

“Injured in any way except by the fire?” 
asked Paul, after he had been introduced as the 
Confederate’s brother. 

“ Injured !” exclaimed the doctor. “ I never 
saw a man so badly cut up in my life. He 
might survive the fire with the loss of his sight, 
perhaps. But the truth of it is, he was exposed 
for some minutes to a perfect sirocco of bullets 
from both armies. Although his legs, arms, body 
and head are scarred, no bone has been broken, 
and no great artery cut ; still, his veins have 


The Reseuc . 


333 


been drained to exhaustion, and only the man’s 
astonishing vitality keeps him up.” 

“ Do you think it would be better for me not 
to enter ?” asked Paul. 

After some deliberation, the doctor said: 

“ If he recognized you, it might do good.” 

“ Then take us in,” said Paul, still clinging to 
General Garfield’s hand. 

Army blankets had been spread on the floor to 
deaden the sound. The room was sufficiently 
light for Paul to distinguish the form stretched 
on the cot. 

At the first sight, he felt his senses reeling, for 
white cloths had been spread over the blistered 
face, and this suggested the sheeted dead. 

The hands were muffled in white cloths ; there 
was no sign of hair ; and a light framework kept 
the bed-covers from pressing down on the muti- 
lated form. 

Regaining strength, Paul came nearer, and 
hope stirred his heart, as he noted the slow rise 
and fall of the broad breast. 

Poor Harry !” he whispered, though he did 
not mean to speak; and, frightened at his own 


334 


The Rescue . 


words, he turned to withdraw, when he heard his 
name called feebly from under the white mask. 

“ Paul ! Brother Paul !” 

“ I am here, Harry ! Here, my brother ! 
Here, kneeling by your side !” cried Paul, now 
completely broken down, and crying as only a 
strong man can. 

“ Wait, my friends,” said General Garfield, 
wiping his eyes. “ Before saying more, let us 
ask aid ; let us invoke strength.” 

And the sturdy soldier knelt down beside the 
Confederate’s cot, and, with closed eyes and 
upraised face, he prayed, in a low voice, for 
Heaven to spare this youth, and to bless him and 
his through the years of life that might remain. 

When the general had finished, he laid his hand 
on Paul’s head, as if bestowing a benediction, 
and then quietly left the room. 

Harry must have known that he was alone 
with his brother, but it was like his unselfish 
nature to give no thought to himself. 

“ Paul, are you near me ?” he asked in a voice 
scarcely audible. 

“ Yes, brother, here by your side.” 

“And General — General Burns?” 


The Rescue. 


335 


“ Saved, thanks to your courage." 

“ For his sake and — and for Dora's sake, I am 
glad." 

“ And yourself, brother ?" said Paul, trying to 
give his voice a confidence he did not feel. 

“ I — I seem to be in the dark." 

“ Your eyes are injured ; they will soon be all 
right. Where is the severest pain, brother ?" 

“No pain now, Paul; since you came it has 
gone." 

“ You will soon be strong enough to go home, 
and then the dear mother and Clara and Dora 
will nurse you into strength, as they nursed me," 
said Paul, with more hope. 

“Yes, if anything could make me well, that 
would. But, Paul—" 

“ Yes, brother." 

“ Which side licked ?" 

“ The Union Army was badly beaten," said 
Paul, surprised that he should think of the battle. 

“ Well," said Harry, very low and very slowly, 
“ I am mighty glad to hear that." 

Although this was thoroughly characteristic 
of Harry Rosser, Paul was so surprised, antf, it 
may be added, delighted at the spirit it showed, 


33 ^ 


The Siege is Raised. 


that he felt for the first time since entering the 
room that his brother would pull through. 

Paul would have staid longer, but the doctor 
called him out, and he left, promising Harry to 
see him every hour, if the physicians thought it 
prudent. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE SIEGE IS RAISED. 

Among the memorable sieges of the war, that 
of Chattanooga by Bragg’s army stands conspic- 
uous. 

Not only were the Union forces cooped up for 
weeks in Chattanooga, and forced to live on ever- 
decreasing rations, but day by day the Confeder- 
ates, overlooking them from the security of their 
fortified heights, threatened to sweep down and 
aid the famine in the work of destruction. 

The only way of getting supplies to Chat- 
tanooga was by wagons from McMinnville by 
way of the Sequatchie Valley. 

The duty of guarding these wagons from 


The Siege is Raised . 


337 


Wheeler’s vigilant troopers rested with the cav- 
alry, so that Paul Rosser and his men had but 
little time for rest in Chattanooga. But while 
there, he visited Harry a dozen times a day, and 
learned, with a sad heart, that while he might 
recover from the bullet-wounds, the chances were 
all against his ever regaining his sight. 

The well and the wounded were suffering for 
food in their tents by the Tennessee, and for the 
first time a feeling akin to despair began to take 
the place of that high courage that had ever dis- 
tinguished the Army of the Cumberland. 

But the battle-tides of that wonderful war 
ebbed and flowed with no regularity. 

Victory Came close on the heels of defeat, 
and Abundance stood next neighbor to Short 
Rations. 

In October, Sherman with his victorious legions 
came over from the Mississippi, and Hooker with 
his corps, under Howard and Slocum, hastened 
to the relief from the Army of the Potomac. 

Grant superseded Rosecrans. 

The railroad from Bridgeport to Chattanooga 
was regained. Trains entered the camp under 
the guns of Lookout Mountain, and soon even 


33 * 


The Siege is Raised. 


the gaunt mules had full rations within the Union 
lines. 

It required unusual spirit and nerve for 
women to travel in those days, but they showed 
themselves even braver than their brothers, 
when love and mercy moved them to action. 

Mrs. Rosser and Mrs. Burns had heard, a few 
days after the battle, of the sufferings of their 
dear ones. Then there came weeks of silence, 
owing to the siege, and they were weeks of 
torture to the women, who could do nothing but 
wait and suffer. 

At length the papers announced that the way 
was open. 

Neither Mrs. Rosser nor Mrs. Burns was in 
a condition to undertake the trip, but they had 
willing and eager substitutes in Clara and Dora. 

When Howard Raymond heard of their pur- 
pose, he tried to dissuade them, or rather he tried 
to dissuade Dora, who had not received him as a 
visitor for more than a year. 

He met her in Lexington, on her way south 
with Clara, and he said : 

“ I can assure you, Miss Dora, it is no place 
for ladies to go, and I advise you against it.” 


The Siege is Raised. 


339 


“ Is it a place for gentlemen to go ?” she 
asked. 

“ Oh ! as soldiers, yes. But think of the 
danger, Miss Dora,” he urged. 

“ If I thought as much of danger, Captain 
Raymond, as you have since the war began, I 
should, perhaps, imitate your prudent example,” 
said Dora, with undisguised contempt. 

“ How is that?” he asked in surprise. 

“ Why, I should stay at home, and sport a 
uniform among the home-guards.” 

“ Miss Burns, I obey orders and try to do my 
duty,” he said, biting his lip to keep back his 
anger. 

“ And I shall do my duty by going to my 
wounded father and to the gallant gentleman 
who saved him.” 

“ Who is that?” 

“ Don’t you know ?” 

“ I certainly do not, and I cannot believe you 
serious.” 

“ I was never more serious in my life, Mr. 
Raymond. But that you may have no doubt as 
to the name that is in my mind and in my heart , 
1 will mention that of noble Harry Rosser,” she 


340 


The Siege is Raised. 


said, looking him full in the eye, and forcing him 
to turn away. 

“You will hardly bring him back,” he sneered. 

“ Why not?” 

“ He is a criminal, with his life forfeited to the 
law,” hissed Raymond. 

“ Who says so ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ You!” 

“ Yes, I.” 

“ And he was convicted on your testimony ?” 

“ 1 am glad to say he was.” 

Speaking very slowly, Dora said : 

“ If Harry Rosser can be moved, he will come 
home with me and Clara ; and if you dare to 
interfere, I shall denounce you to the world as a 
coward and perjurer.” 

“ Perjurer!” cried Raymond. 

“ Aye, a perjurer ! You know, as well as I do, 
why .he wore citizen’s clothes that night, and 
why he came to my father’s house. Leave me, 
sir. You disgrace a soldier’s uniform, for there 
is neither truth nor valor in you !” 

With this centre-shot, delivered at close range, 


The Siege is Raised . 


34i 


and with an extra charge of powder, Dora turned 
away and left him. 

If the train on which Clara and Dora departed 
could have been annihilated, with all its passen- 
gers — two of them in particular — all trace of it 
would have been lost before it went a half-mile. 

Colonel Rosser was in Chattanooga, where 
the army, strengthened by re-inforcements and 
refreshed by rest and abundant food, was pre- 
paring for that one romantic contest of the war, 
the storming of Lookout Mountain and the 
irresistible charge on the heights of Missionary 
Ridge. 

A messenger came to his quarters with a 
belated dispatch. It read : 


“ Dora and I will be in Chattanooga on 
November 21st. 


Clara.” 


“Why, the 21st is to-day, and the train is 
due — if it has come through all right!” said 
Paul. 

The trains did not come up as far as the city, 
owing to the Confederate batteries, but they 


342 


The Siege is Raised. 


were communicated with by two pontoons, one 
above and one below Lookout Mountain. 

Paul started off on foot, and he was about to 
cross the first pontoon, when he saw an ambu- 
lance approaching, and in it there were two 
ladies and General Thomas. 

He was not long in doubt as to who the ladies 
were, for he heard his name called, and he saw 
the waving of handkerchiefs. 

The ambulance came to a stop, and General 
Thomas said with a smile, as he got out : 

“ Colonel, I order you to take command of 
this body of Infantry for the rest of the march.” 

Paul sprang into the ambulance, and if he 
caught Clara in his arms first and kissed her, it 
was only because she was the nearest to him. 

When the girls could get their breath, they 
asked, together : 

“ How are father and Harry?” 

“ How are Harry and the general?? 

“ The general’s wound is healed, I am glad to 
say, and he is able to be about. And Harry — it 
is a miracle the doctors say — is on his feet ; but 
he cannot see. They fear that his sight is gone,” 
said Paul. 


The Siege is Raised. 


343 


“ If he will let me guide him, my eyes will do 
for both,” said Dora, fervently. 

They got out of the wagon before the little 
frame-house in which the general and Harry now 
had their quarters together ; and, as they stood 
before the door for a moment, they saw two men 
approaching. 

One had an empty blue sleeve pinned across 
his breast, and the eyes of the other — he was 
dressed in gray — were covered with a bandage, 
but the shorter, stouter man held him, and 
guided his companion with his remaining hand. 

No need to say who they were. 

The recognition was simultaneous. 

The girls, with cries of mingled joy and grief, 
ran forward, and the four were soon blended ; 
and the kissing and the tears and the fervent 
expressions of joy that followed, baffle the 
powers of my poor pen to describe. 

Harry was too much overcome to speak when 
he knew that it was Dora’s arms that were about 
his neck, and that it was her kisses and her tears 
that were falling like a healing balm on his 
poor, scarred face. 

“ I — I declare,” he managed to say at length, 


344 


The Siege is Raised \ 


“ this is worth all the trouble. Don’t you think 
so, Paul ? Don’t you think so, General ?” 

Both hastened to concur in this view of the 
case. 

“ Let us get back to quarters,” said the general, 
“and my boy and Virgil will get us up such a 
dinner as can’t be beaten outside of old Jessa- 
mine.” 

“ General,” said Harry, reaching out his hands 
like a blind man groping, “ you are my eyes 
now.” 

He felt a soft hand seizing his fingers, and he 
heard a tearful voice by his side saying : 

“ No, no, Harry. This is my place ; and, if 
you will let me, here I shall stay ; and my eyes 
shall be your eyes, till the light returns, as, 
please God, it will.” 

“But Dora!” he said, with a mock effort at 
freeing himself from her hold. 

“ What is it, Harry ?” 

“ You forget something.” 

“ What is that ?” 

“ I am your hated Confederate.” 

“ Yes, after a fashion. But if you will let me, 
you shall henceforth be my loved Confederate.” 


“ Peace and Good- Will. 


345 


He never heard sweeter words than those. 
He bent his head, and her arms came about his 
neck and her kisses on his lips. 

This might be thought a rather public love- 
scene ; but, then, there were only sympathizing 
friends looking on ; and poor Harry, like love 
itself, was blind, but his hand was again in 
Dora’s, and she led him on. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“ PEACE ON EARTH AND GOOD-WILL TO MEN.” 

If the space permitted, we might dwell with 
some interest on that visit to Chattanooga ; for 
the story of war, like that of love, seems to have 
ever a fascination for men. 

Clara and Dora saw, not voluntarily however, 
what but few women eyer see, and that is an 
actual battle. 

They saw the flashing of the guns and heard 
their thunder, when Hooker made his night- 
attack on Lookout Mountain, and carried its crest. 


346 


“ Peace and Good- Will. 


They saw, the very next day, the blue legions 
marching across the undulating plain between 
Chattanooga and the semi-circle of Missionary 
Ridge. 

They heard the bugles, and saw the waving 
banners when the order was given to advance. 

As they saw the blue lines scaling the heights, 
and felt the ground trembling beneath the 
thunder of two hundred cannons, they forgot, in 
the excitement, that Paul was in the battle away 
to the left, and that brave men in blue and gray 
were dead or dying on the hills. 

That night they heard cheers in the camps by 
the river, and the soldiers shouting : 

“ Chicamauga is avenged !” 

The day after the battle, Paul put in an 
appearance, slightly wounded in the leg ; and, 
to the surprise of all, he brought with him 
Ovy, whom he had picked up in the pur- 
suit. 

As Paul had not had a leave of absence since 
the war began, he had no difficulty in securing 
one now, particularly as the army was going 
into winter quarters, and his wound would pre- 
vent his riding with comfort fora month at least. 


‘ Peace arid Good-Will 


347 


The general also secured an indefinite leave, 
and. so a day came when they turned their backs 
on Chattanooga, which none of them but Paul 
was to see again during the war. 

The only thing of interest that happened on 
the way home was a quarrel between Virgil and 
Ovid which nearly came to blows. 

Ovy had declared himself to his brother an 
out-and-out “ Confedrit,” and sneeringly inti- 
mated that “ thar wasn’t a culled Yankee on top o’ 
the yairth that he couldn’t wallup befoh lightnin’ 
could say ‘ Scat !’ ” 

Virgy did not stop to analyze this boast, but 
declared he was proud to be a Yankee, and he 
promised to lay Ovy out “ cole, foh mor’n a 
hour,” the very first chance he got. But, hap- 
pily, they became reconciled, and the chance 
never came. 

Of course telegrams were sent to Mrs. Rosser 
and to Mrs. Burns ; and of course there was a 
grand procession of friends, irrespective of party 
now, and of servants, to meet them at the 
Nicholasville station. 

Since hearing of Harry’s exploit, Mrs. Burns 
had softened very much, and when she could get 


348 “ Peace and Good- Will” 

a chance she threw her arms about his gray coat, 
with him inside it, and kissed him, and whis- 
pered : 

“ God bless you, my son !” 

The war was not yet over, but a stranger 
might have thought it was by the joy in the 
Rosser and the Burns households. 

The servants celebrated the return with a 
prayer-meeting ; but as this was not sufficiently 
exciting for the younger people, they wound up 
with a dance, to the great horror of Uncle Eph 
and Aunt Marfa. 

The first wedding that had taken place in a 
long time came off at the Burns mansion on 
Christmas day. 

It was generally understood that Dora insisted 
on it, for she wanted the right to lead Harry, and 
to have her eyes his eyes. 

The day after the wedding she announced her 
intention of going to Europe. 

“ Not on a wedding trip exactly,” she said, 
“ but to see Von Graf, the famous oculist ; and 
Til wager that Harry comes back with eyes as 
good as mine.” 

And she kept her word, for in time Harry 


“ Peace and Good-Will. 


349 


came back with his vision restored ; still, and it 
may be from the force of habit, he lets his wife 
lead him. 

******* 

Colonel Rosser returned to the army and 
fought till the end of the war ; then he returned 
home with the double stars of a major-general 
on his shoulder, and married Clara. 

Howard Raymond, after Dora’s marriage 
resigned his commission, and left Kentucky for- 
ever. He was hated bv his foes and despised 
by the men who might have been his friends. 

When the character of Dick and Lishe Herd 
became known, those men and their associates 
were hunted down by the Union and the Con- 
federate troops alike, and hanged wherever 
found. 

George Netly, being of no use to Morgan, was 
permitted to come home ; but he was not 
destined to live in peace, for the relentless and 
loving Mollie Crump followed him up, and 
forced him to marry her in self-defense. It may 
be added, she made a better wife than he did a 
husband. 

The trees have grown up in the shattered 


350 


“ Peace and Good- Will. 


forest, and the earthworks by the rivers are 
covered with green. Peace again reigns in the 
valleys of Kentucky and in all the States of the 
great Republic. The wild-vine has covered the 
grass by the rivers, and the wild-flowers bloom 
on the resting-places of the blue and the gray 
among the hills. And these rivers will be 
drained to the sea, and the mountains crumbled 
to the plain, before the story of these kinsmen’s 
daring dies out, or the example of their dauntless 
valor ceases to affect mankind. 


THE END. 


LILITH 


A Sequel to “The Unloved Wife.” 


By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH. 


With Illustrations by O. W. Simons. 


Paper Cover, 60 Cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


In “ Lilith,” Mrs. South worth has taken up the fortunes of her 
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woman. There are more power and more of the interest and 
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than in the first part of the heroine’s strange and tragic history. 
All who read one will desire to read the other. 


MRS. HAROLD STAGG 


A NOVEL. 


BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of “Jack Hall,” etc. 


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woman. In despite of the satire of which Mrs. Harold Stagg is 
the object, every man will like that lady for herself, even though 
he may not be as blindly devoted as her husband. 


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TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 

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